A Drink Called Lethe
by Breathless Ivory
Summary: Miguel... I should probably feel some sort of warmth or appreciation after hearing his name. However, all I can feel is the cold crisp feeling of meeting someone for the first time. "Who am I?"
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Road to El Dorado belongs to Dreamworks. Duh.

Just a few things to clarify before you begin reading:

Lethe is a river of Hades. It means forgetfulness and oblivion, and is a synonym for amnesia. Departed souls would drink from the river and forget their past life so they could be reincarnated.

I would also like to give a HUGE thanks to JMarieAllenPoe for being the beta for this entire story. She helped me think of the title and so much more. I honestly could not have done this without her. She is absolutely amazing. Thank you!

And so without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

**~Tulio~**

_D__arkness is all around me. It envelops me like a cloud — everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Yet it is suffocating, and my chest heaves as I struggle to take in oxygen. I'm trying to find my way home, but I don't know where I'm going. I need to find someone…someone I can't quite place my finger on. I see a flash of red before it gets swallowed by the gloom. I can't remember anything. All I know — all I can perceive — is this empty abyss._

_How am I supposed to find my way?_

_..._

My eyelids take a moment to adjust to the sudden burst of light as they slowly creak open. My head is fuzzy and thick with confusion and it feels as though something is ripping it apart. It is difficult to see through the bleariness that comes with waking up, and doubled with the thin haze of fog that coats the area it is just about impossible to perceive a thing. One color, however, stands out amongst all the rest: a splash of red that seems sickeningly bright against the gray atmosphere. A few moments and several drawn out blinks later, and I can see the offending color belongs to a person. A blond, sitting cross-legged on the ground, his eyes concentrated on something behind me.

A groan rips from my chest as I make an attempt to sit up. My head is throbbing with an intense pain that makes me want to jump off the nearest cliff. My muscles are stiff and protest the movement profusely.

"It doesn't exist."

I almost don't hear the blond's whisper. I rub my eyes with the palm of my hand, but it does little to quell my headache.

"What?" I croak. My voice is as dry as sand and thick with fatigue. The red-shirted man glances over at me with sad green eyes.

"You were right. It was never real." I try to wrap my mind around what he could be talking about, but all that comes up is nothing. It feels as if my mind has been scrubbed clean and the blond has been washed right off the slate. What doesn't exist? It bothers me perhaps more than it should that I don't know. Maybe it's because I can't even think of my own name and having some small bit of clarification might help clear some of the anxiety clawing at my chest.

"What isn't real?"

The look he gives me is of utter confusion. As if out of all the possible things he thought I might say, the words that actually come out of my mouth are the most improbable. He holds up the ancient paper he's been holding onto as if it's the answer to my question. It has meaningless pictures and words too small to read from this distance. I shake my head, as if trying to rid the pointless question from my mind. There are more important things to know.

"Where are we?" I ask, my voice coming out just a little stronger than before. The blond shrugs and pushes himself to his feet. He starts to roll up the paper, but seems to think better of it and lets it slip from his fingers. It floats to the ground like a feather and lands with the pictures facing up as if it's a last ditch attempt to convince someone of its virtue.

"Beats me. I'm sure we'll figure something out though." He hops up onto a white horse nearby that I had missed beforehand. He turns towards me and gives me a smile that seems incredibly forced.

Neither of us says anything for several moments. His smile slips away bit by bit until his expression changes from that of glee to concern.

"Are you coming or what?" he asks with a laugh. I'm not, in fact, sure what I'm going to do. Maybe it's my headache, or maybe it's the fact that my mind feels far too empty for comfort, but I suddenly feel bolder than I did seconds ago.

"Sorry, I don't feel comfortable getting on a horse with a stranger." Emotions flash across the blond's face too quickly to decipher. Eventually he settles on one that I hadn't expected–amusement.

"You always have been the boring one," he says flashing me a smirk.

"Look…you. I really don―_ow._" My brain screeches as I try to stand. I use a large rock behind me to lean against when a head rush floods my mind.

"Wait, wait, that wasn't a joke?" Blondie jumps from the stallion and approaches me. He seems friendly enough, but a panic from somewhere deep inside sets in, and I take a step back from his advances. I hold up my hands in protest.

"No, it wasn't. Who are you?"

The question seems to do more harm than good. Blondie recoils as if I just slapped him. I feel a twinge of regret—but only for a moment. Instead of answering my question, he raises an eyebrow.

"How hard did you hit your head?" As if in response to his inquiry, pain slices across my brain like its being carved open. I gasp in agony, and my hand instinctually rises to press at the wound just above my ear. My hair is matted and sticky with blood, and when I pull away in shock, my fingers are stained crimson. I look back up at the blond with a silent plea for help, but he's seen the blood and looks about as lost as I feel.

"Oh my _God_. Okay, okay, we can fix this! We just have to _stay calm!_" He begins to pace back and forth and runs his fingers through his yellow hair anxiously, "Come on, Miguel, _think!_"

For a moment, I almost think he's addressing me, but when he doesn't acknowledge me further I realize he's talking to himself.

_Miguel…_

I should probably feel some sort of warmth or appreciation after hearing his name. However, all I can feel is the cold crisp feeling of meeting someone for the first time.

"Who am I?" I press.

"Shut up, Tulio, I have to think," he mutters. The blond suddenly snaps his fingers as if an idea has come to him. Miguel turns to me and opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a loud whinnying that makes my head weep. I turn to glare at the cursed creature, but my anger melts into surprise when I see what has rifled it.

Right next to the animal is a beautiful woman with long, silky, black hair and wearing fear on her face as plainly as she is her clothing. Large brown eyes looking at us as if we are the bane of her existence and frozen mid-run as if the very sight of us is enough to stop her dead in her tracks. Miguel grabs ahold of my wrist and drags me towards his steed.

"Horse, horse, horse, horse, horse…" he mutters under his breath.

The woman's eyes grow even wider as Miguel hops aboard the creature and pulls me up with him. The blond leans down to whisper in his animal's ear.

"Come on, Altivo, we have to get out of here!"

Then the woman seems to find herself again and is about to scamper off into the jungle when no more than eight men flood from the sides of the statue. They adorn the furs of various animals, and Miguel squeaks in horror when the biggest of the group glares at us suspiciously. They wield makeshift spears and flimsy shields, but, even if they had nothing, they'd still overpower us.

"Uh, hi there. Sorry to bother you. We—we were just, um, leaving. R—Right now." The blond trips over his words with uncertainty, and I groan internally as the more than conspicuous words tumble from his lips. Suddenly, the leader grunts and shoves his spear into Miguel's face as if in warning, and my strange companion lets out another terrified yelp. "Lead the way," he whispers.

The constant thunderous drumming of the falls has always been there, but it is only now that I realize they exist. They are truly brilliant: stretching tall and glorious as far as the eye can see. It is a beautiful clear blue, and it cascades into the pool below in a violent fit of white foam. In the distance, I can hear a bird calling with a proud, strong voice. The whole place seems mysterious but vibrant. Like it has a secret and can't wait to share it.

Of course, this is all taken in via my peripheral vision because my eyes are obsessively fixated on the warrior's incredibly pointy-looking spears. It may be a tad overdramatic, but the only thing I can think right now is that I'm far too young to die—especially before I've experienced anything besides the last five minutes.

Then the leader of the group slips behind the waterfall. I feel Miguel tense as a realization dawns on him.

"I knew it," he murmurs.

Behind the cascades is a large and incredibly foreboding cavern with jagged rocks that look suspiciously like teeth. Miguel climbs off Altivo and enthusiastically climbs into one of our captor's tiny boats. I hesitate, unwilling to follow but knowing that I cannot go back.

As we sit down across from the olive-skinned woman, she sighs dejectedly and glares at us as if we have just ruined her life. Though to be fair, I'm sure we somehow have.

My head still hurts, but it is thankfully beginning to dull into a bearable ache. The boat rides at a lulling rhythm that does little for my frayed nerves. It's far too quiet, and it reminds me of my silent memories.

Miguel suddenly chuckles softly and nudges me as if he has thought of a funny joke. When he sees the blank look I give him, he seems to remember my state and glances away sharply before I can apologize.

It's not long before Miguel gasps softly and whirls around. I follow his gaze to see that the boat is leading us straight towards an overhanging of vines. Sunlight shines through them, and, as the boat nears its destination, Miguel nudges me as if he knows something I don't.

It's like a fable has sprung to life and has landed in our laps. As we draw close, the vines part, and we are graced with what I'm sure is the most beautiful sight eyes can behold.

"El Dorado…" I hear Miguel exclaim quietly. The sun shines its magical golden rays on a city that certainly deserves it. Temples that rise to the sky and colors so bright they are practically blinding. Even the river has a beautiful yellow gleam to it, and the whole scene professes magnificence.

I'm being filled with an unrecognized sense of belonging that could be due to the fact that I cannot recall having ever been anywhere else. Briefly, I forget that I don't know who I am, and simply accept that I can't possibly belong anywhere else.

The moment doesn't last long and I suddenly realize how insane this all is. How _unfair. _The stares I am receiving from all the citizens who have congregated in the city square make me uncomfortable, and when the boat reaches the port, I don't want to get out. I don't know what is going to happen to me if I do, and I want to prolong my fate as long as possible. The blond grabs my hand and pulls me out of the boat when he notices my hesitation. Perhaps he isn't afraid, or perhaps he's just better at hiding it.

As we mount the horse and ride towards what I've assumed to be our death, Miguel sighs and turns to look me in the eye.

"Since you don't remember me, this seems like a great time to apologize for that girl in Barcelona."

I wish his words could ignite either anger or laughter in me, but the fact that I'm unsure of what I'm supposed to be feeling just proves even further how far gone I am. I purse my lips and look away, suddenly unable to look this man in the eye. No matter how difficult it is for him to be forgotten, it is a thousand times worse to forget. He gets to die as he is. I get to die as a stranger to myself.

"Behold! As the prophecies foretold, the time of judgment is now."

A man reveals himself from the top of a case of stairs. He is too far away to see that well, but even from this distance I can see his eyes shifting maliciously. His words send a chill running down my spine like lightning as he confirms my suspicions.

"Citizens, did I not predict that the gods would come to us?"

A beam of light shines through the darkness, glowing with a possibility that almost seems too good to be true. Is he addressing us? It doesn't seem possible, but as I look at all the captivated stares the people are sending our way, I begin to think it may be conceivable.

Am I a god?

I shift my eyes towards Miguel desperately, trying to find a reason to believe I could be so powerful. I have many reasons not to, but if he believes, then so do I. It seems so improbable, but somehow I can't entirely dismiss the idea. So many questions flood my mind that I almost miss the next words the man shouts.

"My Lords, I am Tzekel-Kan, your devoted High Priest and speaker for the gods," he introduces with a bow.

He's most definitely speaking with us. He seems so positive that we are gods that I almost start believing right then and there. The thought sends another shiver down my spine, but this time for an entirely different reason. I look around at all the people gathered here, their expressions wide-eyed and hopeful, but terrified and uncertain at the same time. I instinctively nudge Miguel's arm in an unspoken plead for him to take charge. If we are gods as these people claim, then he would know what to do.

"I am Chief Tannabok," a robust man states gently as he approaches our horse. "What names may we call you?"

"I am Miguel," the blond announces. I swallow nervously as I realize that I cannot recall what it was my companion called me. I furrow my eyebrows in thought, and the two men in front of us begin to look at me strangely. Miguel opens his mouth as if to answer for me when the name pops back into my head from nowhere.

"I am Julio."

"_Tulio,_" Miguel hisses under his breath.

"But you can call me Tulio," I correct myself immediately, wincing as my voice cracks from nerves.

Tzekel-Kan hesitates for a moment, a vaguely perplexed look spreading across his face. He blinks to right himself. "Your arrival has been greatly anticipated."

_Why? _I can't help but wonder. _Were we sent here? Why can't I remember?_

"My Lords, how long will you be staying in El Dorado?" The Chief's question is cut off when Tzekel-Kan's small eyes suddenly light up as if he is a bird who has just spotted something shiny. He shoulders past the Chief and Altivo with a swagger in his step.

"Aha! I see you have captured this temple-robbing thief. How would you have us punish her?" The High Priest grabs the wrist of the olive-skinned woman. She gasps and pulls away from his tight grasp, but he is built well and has no difficulty dragging her front and center. To be honest, I had all but forgotten about the woman, though as I lay eyes on her again I wonder just how I had done so. Gorgeous silky hair and intelligent brown eyes catch my attention for a moment, and I struggle with trying to pull my attention to the words tumbling out of her luscious lips.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no! My Lord, I am not a thief. See, the gods sent me a vision to bring them tribute from the temple to guide them here…My only wish is to serve the gods." Her face contorts into an expression of pure desperation. I cannot help but feel sorry for her. She is a horrible liar, but somehow that just adds to her charm.

I descend from the horse and approach them. A small strangled noise comes out of Miguel's throat as I do so, but he is quick to cut it off. He follows suite, catching his foot on the reins of the animal and almost falling over.

"Let her go," I demand. I'm not sure where this sudden ethical surge has come from, but it probably has something to do with curvy hips.

The High Priest still has the woman's wrist tight between his fingers. He stares at me in silence for a moment before his fingers loosen enough for her to pull away. Her brown eyes, which held so much contempt and distrust for me before, now are obliged and relieved. The olive-skinned woman glares at Tzekel-Kan with disgust as he shoves the stolen tribute into her hands.

"Then you will begin by returning this to its rightful place," he requests of her. She goes, but not without throwing me a grateful glance over her shoulder first.

"My Lords, why now do you choose to visit us?" Chief Tannabok cuts off my view of the beautiful woman as he steps in front of her. My eyes fixate on him automatically, and I blink a couple times, trying to process what he is asking.

"Enough!" Tzekel-Kan scoffs. "You do not question the gods!" For once, I am happy for his presence, though I cannot rightfully say he doesn't still make me uncomfortable. The disgruntled expression on the Chief's face awakens the ethical surge once more, and, before I can think about it, words begin spilling out of my mouth.

"Ah, no, it's fine. He has a city to protect. It must be hard to believe we are who we say we are."

Where are these words coming from? It's as if a part of me has already conformed around this new idea, while the other half hisses and shies away.

Tzekel-Kan gets that confused look on his face again. Like I'm saying the opposite of what I'm supposed to be saying. I glance at Miguel and realize I've been causing that expression a lot since I woke up. I wonder how _Tulio _would have reacted in this sort of situation.

"So prove it!"

"What?" Miguel splutters.

"Prove you are the powerful deities in which we summoned. Show us the truth of your divinity!"

A hungry light awakens in the High Priest's eyes, and a dark smile spreads across his face. This is the moment of truth for all of us. My heart begins pounding faster, and I hear Miguel begin breathing heavily. If I am a god, then my lost memories prevent me from proving my worth. I don't know what my powers are, or how to control them. I nudge the blond once again, knowing that if we're actually deities, these men in front of us aren't the only ones who want proof.

"Miguel, show them."

His green eyes are as wide as plates as he processes my words, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. He clears his throat and grabs my wrist.

"Uh, hold on a sec."

The blond drags me to a more secluded area and stares at me silently for a moment, his eyes frantic and large. Then suddenly he slaps me across the arm with the back of his hand.

"_What was that!?_"

"They asked us to prove we're gods, what was I supposed to say? 'Sorry, we don't feel like it right now?' I hardly doubt that would prove anything to the mortals." Miguel's mouth hangs open for a moment as he goes over what I just said in his head. Once again, I get the suspicion that I said something horribly wrong.

"You're kidding me. Tulio, you're not a god."

Somehow, I don't feel surprised. Horribly disappointed and scared, oh yes, but not surprised. My chest tightens as the panic I had hoped I'd gotten rid of returns, and I blink rapidly. My headache returns full force and I press fingers to my temple. Yet something about his words bothers me. Does that mean _he _is a god?

"Maybe we should just tell the truth and beg for mercy," he mumbles. I don't want to agree with him. The thought of revealing myself after all this makes my stomach curl. However, I know we may not have another option right now. Lord Miguel must not want to share his credit with a mortal. But what does that make me? A mere servant?

I'm about to tell him all this when the crowd gasps loudly. Miguel continues to mutter inaudibly to himself as I turn to see what has upset the people. In the distance ominous smoke emits from a volcano. The ground below my feet begins to rumble as the mountain quakes with fury. A feeling I can't describe washes over me as I see the fear in the citizen's eyes. Suddenly, no matter what Lord Miguel has just said, I know this is something I must do.

I step away from the lord and face the volcano, my chin high. I raise my hand towards the heavens and take a deep breath, summoning my courage before it's too late.

"_STOP!_"

My voice sounds strong and mighty as my exclamation echoes throughout the city. The volcano continues to erupt for only a moment before the quaking slows to a halt and the smoke descends back into the mountain's massive face with a wheeze. Silence envelops the city as all eyes become plastered on me, including Lord Miguel's. I don't move a muscle; just continue to stare at the volcano. All the natives fall to their knees in worship and cheers overwhelm us as they exult.

I look down at my hand, turning it over as I inspect it. The sound of my voice resonates through my skull, bouncing around like a ball. Something unexplainably powerful overcame me as the shout ripped itself from my body. Almost as if…

Lord Miguel is staring at the volcano, jaw dropped, and I smirk.

"Still think I'm not a god?" I ask.

"H—How did you…" he trails off and shakes his head as if it no longer bothers him. The blond projects his chin to the sky and struts back towards Tzekel-Kan as if he was the one who had just performed the deed. Not wanting to be outdone, I copy his movements and do the same. The look on Tzekel-Kan's face is priceless, and I know that, finally, I have done something right.

"O Mighty Lords. Come. Let me show you to your temple."

The two of us follow both the Chief and High Priest up the long set of stairs that lead to our temple. By the time we reach the top, Lord Miguel is wheezing and attempting to catch his breath. My limbs are burning as well, but as a god, I figure it is best not to show my weakness. I stand tall and straighten my back. When Miguel sees me this way, he quickly does the same.

We are ushered into an exquisite looking room with colors as bright as the sun. Lord Miguel and I look around in appreciation at the meticulousness in which this building has been crafted. Golden goblets filled to the brim with mysterious purple liquid and bright delicious green grapes sit temptingly on a table. Colorful pillows and blankets adorn the furniture everywhere. Vibrant plants with flowers of every color dot the area. Large windows that overlook the city line the walls. In the very back of the room are two mighty golden thrones that overlook the entire temple.

"To commemorate your arrival, I propose a reverent ceremony at dawn," the High Priest declares.

The idea has merit. Such deep respect and awe is laced in his words, and somehow I feel inclined to trust him despite his more than unlikable appearance. A ceremony sounds like a spectacular idea.

"And perhaps I could prepare a glorious feast for you tonight."

The Chief is humble and polite. However, his suggestion seems much more meager in comparison to the High Priest's.

"Which would you prefer?"

"Ceremony," I say.

"Both," Lord Miguel says at the same time. Miguel glances at me, his green eyes growing larger. Suddenly my stomach feels much emptier than it did moments ago like my abdomen has caved in. I consent with a sigh.

"Both!" Lord Miguel chirps. He's entirely too cheerful for this, and I roll my eyes in contempt.

"My Lords," Tannabok and Tzekel-Kan excuse themselves.

I look at Lord Miguel expectantly, "Well?" I ask. He raises an eyebrow in confusion as if he doesn't know what I could possibly be talking about. Suddenly, he purses his lips and sighs, putting a hand on my shoulder. The gesture feels familiar somehow, and I find myself leaning into his touch.

"I know this must be confusing. I'll try to explain who you—"

"No, no, no, I want to know what our mission is." I say with a wave of dismissal. Lord Miguel blinks.

"Mission?" he asks blankly.

"Yes! Why were we sent here? They said we were 'greatly anticipated' as if we have a reason for being here." A baffled look comes across Lord Miguel's face, and he stumbles over his words for a moment.

"Uh—they, um…" Lord Miguel trails off, his eyes shifting around as if he's thinking hard. He doesn't answer for a moment, eyes trained on the ground and staring at something as if he's staring past the floor. I'm about to speak up when he beats me to it.

"The main man upstairs said you weren't allowed to know," he says slowly. "You have to – erm – find that out for yourself." His excuse seems legitimate. This experience has been rather difficult to say the least. Perhaps I was sent here for some sort of test and Lord Miguel is here to supervise.

"Hm. An interesting predicament." Lord Miguel rubs his temples with pale slender fingers and sighs heavily.

"You have _no_ idea."


	2. Chapter 2

**~Miguel~**

I don't remember much about my mother—she died when I was still a boy. However, one thing I do recall with the utmost potency was her voice. She loved to sing. Every night she would sing me to sleep, and every night I had pleasant dreams.

When the small epidemic swept through and wiped both my parents out for good, it was difficult to get back on my feet. I'd never been alone before, and now I had no one. Just like a lot of little boys and girls in the town, I found myself as a lonely, starving, and desperate thirteen-year-old without a penny to my name. Every time I closed my eyes at night, it took hours to fall asleep. I missed the music that kept away the bad dreams.

So when I saw the fisherman singing to a tune on his mandolin, I became entranced. I don't know if he ever saw me, but every evening I hid nearby listening to him sing. It wasn't the same, but it was as close as I was ever going to come. His voice was deep and rough and vastly different from my mother's smooth petite one, yet the mere sound of it still sent a chill up my spine.

When he didn't show up one day, I became scared that I'd never see him again. I didn't want to lose touch with the music that had become an essential part of my life. He showed up the following day, but my fear remained intact. That night I followed him home, determined and resolute in my decision.

In the dead of night I peered into his house through a small window. The fisherman was too trusting for his own good, and I found that I could open the shutters with ease. I crawled in, catching my foot on the windowsill. My hands caught myself on the ground and a small '_eep_' escaped my throat. I kept perfectly still; waiting for what I was sure was my inevitable death. When no one came running, I pushed myself to my feet slowly and took a deep breath. Moonlight shone in through the small sliver of window still open and lit up exactly what I had come searching for. The fisherman's mandolin sat balanced against a wall, the cords appearing to gleam invitingly.

Fingers twitched as I picked up the instrument. I desperately wanted to pluck the strings and light up the room with music, but I knew that I had to escape first. However, as I peered through the hole in which I climbed in, I saw a guard stationed right outside. I bit my lip, eyes flitting around the room in panic. They landed on the entrance to another room, and I snuck towards it hesitantly.

It was dark but didn't rule out sight entirely. As my eyes squinted in an effort to see, they spotted a small bit of light on the other side of the room. I tiptoed across the floor slowly and carefully, one hand out in front of me and the other grasping the mandolin in a sweaty palm. I was almost home free when my foot marched on an extremely not floor-like figure.

The moment I stepped on his face, I knew Tulio and I would be together forever—especially since he didn't rat me out. It's the single greatest moment of my life, because it's the reason for all the great things in my life.

But now, as I stare at him across the temple room, I feel like a stranger. His blue eyes used to stare at me with all the love and adoration I felt for him. Now they just appraise me coldly and blankly, as if I'm just a colleague.

I've never felt a more intense pain than I do when I realize he doesn't remember the night I stole his father's mandolin. That he doesn't remember _me._

"Lord Miguel, I need your help."

The Old Tulio wasn't much for asking for help. He'd moan and complain about every little inconvenience but any help I offered was normally thrust upon him. Apparently _Lord_ Tulio feels differently on the issue. I wander over to him, ready to help with whatever he wants.

"Could you latch my…thing." He fumbles for a word to describe his collar before settling for just pointing. Not long after settling in the temple, a servant girl had visited and presented us with proper attire for the celebration. I hold back a chuckle and go to assist him. That's when I notice that just above his left ear his raven hair is still caked with dried blood. It's almost difficult to see since his hair is so dark, but up close it's more than obvious. I wonder if he even remembers he hit his head.

"Come over here first. We have to clean you up."

I lead him over to a pool of fresh water that rests in the center of the temple and make him sit on the edge. I grab one of the less decorative blankets and dip it in the cool liquid. Tulio squirms uncomfortably as I press the cloth to his head, and I try not to push too hard to avoid hurting him.

The wound is not as deep as I had originally thought. It's just a small sliver that's no more than a couple inches long. It has already scabbed over, and his dark hair, once cleaned, should do the job in hiding it. I'm not sure if that's the kind of thing the people here would notice, but I don't want to take any chances. It doesn't take long for the blood to flake off, but I keep washing him anyways, just in case.

"I really don't think this is necessary."

"Of course it is, darling."

I don't mean to say it, but the words are so natural—so right—that I don't even think about it. Tulio pulls away and gives me a most curious expression. I search his eyes desperately, looking for the smallest flicker of his old self being awakened by the words, but all I see is concern wrinkled on his brow.

"Who exactly do you think I am?"

The question catches me off guard. Who is he to tell me I don't know him, when he can't even tell me his middle name?

Before I can respond, the two of us are startled by a loud crash at the opposite end of the temple. The woman that Tulio had saved before is standing there, a mortified expression plastered on her face. At her feet is the tribute she had been told to put back, her hands still in midair as if she is pretending she didn't just drop it.

"Oh—excuse me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" she trails off, and bends over to pick up what appears to be a golden face. She puts it in its proper place and fiddles with the edge of her clothing.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Tulio says as he stands. He adjusts his feathered crown before strutting towards her with a mischievous smile. "Mortals make mistakes. It is their way."

The woman blinks, the smallest of smiles curling at the ends of her lips. Tulio's roguish smile makes me swallow hard. All the times he's looked at me like that flash through my mind and I grit my teeth. I lock my hand into a fist and pound my leg lightly, resisting the urge to replace my leg with her face.

"Uh-huh. Well, I definitely agree with that," she says, folding her arms across her chest.

"What's your name?"

"Chel," she says, sticking out her hand. Tulio takes it gently and kisses her knuckles. My eyes practically bulge out of my head at the sight. Chel looks slightly surprised as well, obviously having been going for a handshake. She looks flustered, but not entirely upset.

I clear my throat loudly and strut over to them. "Lord Tulio and I must attend a feast." I announce, separating their hands, "If you'll excuse us."

I grab Tulio's wrist, ignoring his protests as I drag him away from that she-devil. Right before we leave I adjust his headdress which had fallen crooked, and then I shove him out of the temple before he can get away from me. I haven't had to deal with Tulio flirting with someone_ else_ before, and I realize now that there's a very good reason for that. This small knot curling in my stomach is certainly not a feeling I like, and it's not something that I want to have there because of Tulio.

El Dorado looks ten times more divine than it did when we had first arrived. I am impressed with how much they accomplished in just under an hour. Decorative lights litter the entire area and exquisite pottery and figurines are on display everywhere. Right in the center of the plaza is a replica of the stone monument that wounded Tulio. It looks exactly the same, and just the sight of it causes my hands to get clammy. I look away, trying to forget about the entire catastrophe for a moment, even though I know the effort is futile.

Tulio lifts his chin high and places his hands on his hips as the citizens see their beloved heroes. Normally, I'd feel ecstatic that people believe I'm a powerful deity. If you were to subtract the disaster I'm currently knee-deep in, then I'd wager I'd be having a grand time fooling these people right now.

However, the taste of such a victory is much less sweet without Tulio to keep me from doing something stupid. Now, instead, the tables have turned and I know that if I don't keep a close eye on the Spaniard, he'll do something incredibly reckless. I'm not sure how I'll recognize it, seeing as how I'm usually the one Tulio yells at for being careless, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

My thoughts are interrupted as energetic music begins to blare and more and more people congregate around the bottom of the steps. Cheers envelop us as we descend the stairs, and I feel a strange sensation coiling in my chest. It can't be explained, but suddenly the situation doesn't seem quite so bleak.

Chief Tannabok approaches as we finally reach the bottom and presents us with a bowl of a delicious looking purple liquid. Tulio accepts it immediately, a wide grin spreading across his face as he drinks it. He passes it to me and I let the liquid pour down my throat in a tempting flood.

I take the bowl away from my face after the first big gulp of the juice settles in my stomach. My head begins to feel the faintest bit of fuzzy and I have to blink to get ahold of myself. I suddenly realize what the drink contains, and I know it works _wonders._ I can see Tulio eyeing the bowl and I realize it'd be best to not let him get drunk. I lift the bowl to my lips again and gulp down the entire dish, wiping away the drops that are trickling down my chin.

Tulio's pout lasts for only a moment before he runs off to the next thing that catches his attention. With a soft sigh, I resign myself to the knowledge that it's going to be a long night.

I have to take longer strides than normal to keep up with him. The natives quickly fall to their knees as we pass, and I can't help but grin as they do so. Some of them reach out to touch me, and I take their hands one by one. The expressions on their faces as I embrace them makes me think they want to both laugh and cry. When the people reach for Tulio, he glances at the hand for a moment before looking away. I may be imagining it, but I can swear I almost see his nose curling upwards. Whether it's in disgust or pity I can't tell. I'm not even sure I want to know.

"Some party, eh?" Tulio turns towards me and says with a wink. I'm glad to see he's warmed up to me at least a little, though a small part of me almost doesn't want to get to know this stranger that has taken over my partner's body.

"I've seen better," I lie before really thinking about it.

Tulio blinks; his smile momentarily slipping from his face before it returns full force. He waves a hand in the air as if my statement is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. Like he's been attending parties his entire life which, I suppose, is true in a sense. He grabs ahold of my elbow and leans in close to my ear to be heard over the roaring of the music as it suddenly reaches its forte.

"We'll have to change that then."

Suddenly I don't care how he's acting. All I can see is his arm wrapped around mine and all I can feel is the warmth of his breath on my skin.

He drags me off into the core of the celebration. The crowd parts eagerly as we pass by. I can practically feel the stares of hundreds burning my body as we advance through the new path. I catch a native man staring at me, but their gaze quickly darts away as if it is a sin to be caught watching a god. For all I know, that could very well be true.

We make it to a heavily decorated table with exotic foods beyond my wildest dreams and my mouth starts to water at the sight. A large bowl resides in the center filled to the brim with the potent purple wine. My concern about Tulio drinking too much still stands, though I don't really see the harm in a couple drinks. Back in Spain, Tulio had been able to handle his alcohol just fine. Like he has read my thoughts, my partner grabs a cup and fills it with the punch, raising it in the air as if in a toast. My fingers itch to grab some of my own, but I remind myself that my mind needs to retain what little clarity it has left.

"Hey, Tulio," I say, suddenly desperate for conversation, "even the _apples_ are golden."

I nod my head towards the end of the counter where a small bowl of the yellow apples reside. They appear to glow in the starlight, and for a moment I honestly cannot tell if they are made from pure gold or not. Tulio glances at the bowl and rolls his eyes, leaning against the table for support.

"Yeah, and? It _is_ the City of Gold. Did you think they'd be red?" It's so much like something he would have said that I titter nervously.

"I dunno. I like red. Only the best for the gods, right?" I expect him to laugh or at least crack a smile, but he only nods solemnly and strokes his chin in thought.

"You're right. I'll need to talk to them tomorrow and change it."

The delusion that Tulio is at my side vanishes with that statement. I gape at him for a moment. It still catches me off guard at times when I remember this isn't my real partner next to me. The reminder sends pain through my body every time I realize my mistake, yet it keeps slipping my mind. I hope that he won't be lost so long that I stop forgetting. The moments when I seem to catch a glimpse of the real Tulio are well worth the shock of realizing they're a fantasy.

Tulio downs the rest of his drink and sighs contentedly. His eyes begin to droop ever so slightly, and his smile seems far too relaxed for his own good. Before I can warn him to put down the wine, he has grabbed my hand and is dragging me through the throngs of dancing natives, his grasp loose but snug at the same time. His skin is cool to the touch and is a nice contrast to my boiling palms.

"Tulio, where are you—"

"It's our celebration, not a buffet." I don't bother to point out that _technically_ it is a feast.

He stops in front of a rock mural that supposedly depicts our lordship. The resemblance is uncanny, and I almost cannot blame the natives for being fooled so easily. After all, if someone stopped a volcano from erupting with his mere voice, I'd probably be convinced they were heavenly as well. It still confuses me as to how Tulio accomplished such a feat, but if I start to think about it too much my head begins to ache.

Tulio breaks me from my thoughts when he grabs ahold of my hand and makes an attempt at pulling me atop the sculpture with him. The inquiry of how he got up there in the first place is on the edge of my tongue, but I bite it back with the knowledge that I'll go crazy if I start questioning every little thing. If you glance away for even a moment, it seems, you miss everything.

"Look at them, Lord Miguel." He says, gazing down at the people with wide eyes. "They love us."

Tulio's eyes are wide as they take in the sights below us. The torches standing nearby cast a dancing firelight into his blue eyes, making it seem as if they are alive. Everything about the moment seems fragile. As if at any moment I'll wake up and we'll still be in Spain or in the ocean and none of this will have ever happened. I almost wish that were true, but I know that I won't wake up from this no matter how hard I pinch myself.

I shift my attention from my partner to the hordes of villagers who have begun to gather below us, as if they expect an eloquent speech. Perhaps it's the late hour – more likely it's the bowl of wine I had earlier – but I feel a surge of overwhelming power as I see the reverence and respect in their eyes. They fall to their knees once again with exclamations of devotion on their tongues. As someone who grew up being ignored and tolerated, it feels beyond amazing to be on the receiving end of worship.

I punch Tulio's shoulder lightly, "Who wouldn't?"

Tulio blinks at the spot on his arm where my fist landed, and looks back up at my face with a wrinkled brow.

"Why would you do that?" he asks slowly.

I don't answer.

After that it doesn't take long for me to lose what little control I had over the situation. Once we put our feet back on the ground it only takes a moment of distraction and Tulio has vanished. I groan and search through the crowds but do not see him. I know he's going to drink, and drink _a lot,_ and I cringe as I think of all the horrible things that could come out of his mouth. Is this how Tulio felt back in Spain _all the time?_ I make a mental note to ask him about it if he ever…

I stop my train of thought before it becomes too painful to think about.

I return to the refreshment table, hoping to find Tulio. Perhaps he had come back here for a pit stop or for more wine and I can intercept him. Instead, all I find is my valiant white stallion burying his face in the infamous bowl of lilac alcohol.

"Altivo!" I pull his face out of the bowl and groan as I see droopy lids and unfocused brown eyes. "I can't handle _you_ drinking as well."

I feel a light hand on my shoulder, and I turn, hoping to see my partner, but instead I see slanted brown eyes and incredibly curvy hips. My immediate reaction is distaste, but I swallow it down and let her speak.

"Lord Miguel," Chel asks, pointing behind her, "is Lord Tulio okay?" I look at where she is indicating and my eyes grow wide.

"Oh no," I whisper.

There he is, standing on top of a large boulder, his limbs flailing in what I assume he thinks is dancing. He's singing at the top of his lungs, and waving his arms about haphazardly. In one hand, he's holding a cup of what can only contain the dreaded purple wine. His headdress has disappeared completely and his clothing is disheveled. I pray to whatever deities may actually be listening that he'll still have on clothing by the time the night ends.

"_¡Es genial ser un Dios!"_ he sings.

Great.

"Oh—right, um, well, Lord Tulio is speaking in a, um…heavenly tongue."

Chel raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And I'm guessing that's why he's flopping around like a fish out of water?"

"Um…heavenly dance?" My response is weak, and I can tell from her raised eyebrow and amused expression that she's not even close to believing me. That's when I know I'm way out of my league here. _Tulio_ is the one who comes up with the plans. _Tulio_ is the one who spends a majority of his time keeping me out of trouble, and it's _Tulio_ who normally fails in doing so. I simply wasn't made to take care of the both of us.

Chel tugs on the end of my robes and leads me away from the large mass of people. It's darker in this corner and much more quiet, and we'll be able to talk freely. She glances over her shoulder a couple times before turning to face me, and when she does it's with a smirk. The shadows around us shroud her face in darkness, but that doesn't stop me from catching the spark of mischief in her brown eyes.

"So, are you gonna tell me or am I gonna have to force a confession?" she asks, crossing her arms. The words make me nervous. What does she mean by '_force_ a confession'?

"T-Tell you?"

"Hon, you may have fooled a lot of people, but there's only so much a girl can dismiss."

"You…you _know?_" Her grin answers my question better than her words ever could, "How?"

She doesn't say anything, just lifts my chin until I'm looking back up at Tulio. He's taken out the ribbon that holds his hair back and is staring at it like he's expecting it to fly away.

"Oh."

"Doesn't take a genius, honey."

Suddenly I'm caught between a crossroads with this woman. Her far too revealing clothing and sashaying hips make me nervous with her around Tulio, but she's the only one around here who seems to have a grasp on anything. Her clever brown eyes reflect her wit, giving me a strange sense of familiarity. There's something about her that reminds me of Tulio, and there's a small part of me that doesn't want to lose that. Not again.

I just hope she doesn't make a habit of treating me like I'm five. I usually feel incredibly stupid around witty people for exactly that reason. Tulio being the exception of course, because he only _thinks_ he's witty.

However, I know that if Tulio and I are ever going to survive, I'm going to require some serious assistance.

"Okay, I need your help." If the triumphant expression that spreads across her face is any indication, that's precisely what she's been hoping I'd say.

"I know ya do," she says with a wink. She slings her arm around me amicably, "And when you boys leave, you're taking me with you."

"Yeah, sure." I agree quickly. It's a small price to pay for the advice she's bound to give.

"_¡Me siento tan poderoso!_" Tulio shouts. He flexes his muscles and takes a step forward, slipping from the top of the boulder. I wince as he tumbles and lands on his back, but my worry dissipates when he sits up laughing his head off.

God knows I'm going to need as much of it as I can get.

* * *

**Translations:**

**Es genial ser**** un dios-It's great to be a god**

**Me siento tan poderoso-I feel so powerful**


	3. Chapter 3

**~Tulio~**

_It's difficult to see, like staring into a pool of dark murky water. If confusion could take material form, this would be spot-on. There are faint outlines and shapes but nothing concrete. If I really concentrate, I can see the barest silhouette of what appears to be a person; a man, with broad shoulders and long dark hair. He has gray eyes—but…wait, how do I know that? He's facing away from me, walking in the opposite direction._

_ Why do I so desperately want him to turn around?_

_ I want to call out, to run after him and make him turn towards me. But the darkness is closing in, and I can't breathe. I can't—_

…

My eyes snap open and I take a moment to try and compose myself. My chest is heaving hysterically, and a thin sheet of cold sweat covers my skin. My mind wanders to my dream, and I shiver uncontrollably. I don't recall what happened, just that I didn't like it. For a brief moment, I'm terrified that I'm still trapped in the darkness, but as my eyes adjust to the black I begin to see the outline of various shapes littering the room. I blink several times to be sure I'm seeing things correctly.

I'm in a temple. A temple filled to the brim with luxuries beyond comprehension. I don't recall being here. In fact, I don't recall being _anywhere._

Who am I, again?

Then the memories of the previous evening burst through my mind like a tidal wave. _Tulio. That's right. I'm Lord Tulio—a god. _I shift my eyes to my right to see Lord Miguel nestled in a massive bundle of blankets, a content expression on his face as he dreams.

My head is pounding, but this time when I press my knuckles to my temple it reduces the pain by a wide margin.

Honestly, there isn't much about yesterday that locks into place. I remember there was loud music and many bright obnoxious colors. I can practically feel the cool night breeze on my skin and smell the sweet scent of indigenous flowers and citrus fruit.

Also wine, there was a _lot_ of wine.

But there isn't much that is specific or concrete. I recall seeing Lord Miguel quite a lot. He must have stuck by my side throughout most of the night. His hair is spilling out over his pillow messily, and he's clutching the blankets close to his heart like he doesn't want to let go. His mouth is gaping open and staining the cloth with his drool, and there are deep bags beneath his bags. He looks like a complete and utter mess.

So why is it so hard to look away?

I glance out of the windows to see a newborn light just barely grazing the edge of Earth; a pale innocent light that can hardly even penetrate the night. And it feels fresh, like turning to a blank page and knowing that you can make your own story, decide your own fate. I feel like a giant weight is being lifted from my shoulders at the thought.

But the weight soon returns when I hear the low snoring of the blond next to me. When the sun rises, it hasn't forgotten everyday it's lit up the world, and it certainly has not forgotten the moon.

Which just begs the question: Why have I?

_"To commemorate your arrival, I propose a reverent ceremony at dawn."_

The high priest's voice dances through my head out of the blue. Dawn is approaching, and if the mortal keeps his word then he should be here any moment. Lord Miguel is in no shape to present himself. I nudge his shoulder lightly in an effort to wake him from his slumber.

"Hey," I whisper, "you need to get ready."

The blond snorts in protest and curls tighter into a ball, rubbing his face against his blanket. "Go away," he says, his voice muffled from behind the cloth.

A laugh huffs from between my lips. I grab the edge of his blanket and pull it out from under him, causing him to tumble out of bed and lay in a jumbled heap on the temple floor. He yelps and jerks up, his hair skewed in all directions. Lord Miguel glares at me maliciously, but whatever malignant effect he may have been going for is completely overshadowed by how adorable he looks when he pouts.

"Not fair, Tulio."

I shrug, folding the blanket into a neat square. "_Fair_ didn't wake you up."

"Oh yeah?" Miguel asks, attempting to hold back a grin. "Well, this will."

"Wha—"

He lunges for me then and tackles me to the ground, cutting me off. The fabric slips from my fingers and falls to the floor with a dull thud. I gasp in both shock and pain as my shoulder slams into the solid floor. But that's not what has my attention.

Lord Miguel is sitting on me, a triumphant smile plastered across his face. Strands of his blond hair stick out unevenly, and his purple and red robe is disheveled from sleep. His green eyes, though baggy, are shining brightly. He has my shoulders pinned to the floor, and he's staring at me mischievously.

"That was entirely t—" He cuts me off again, this time by slamming his lips against mine.

_Wait, what?_

For a brief moment my body freezes in shock, and I blink quickly in an attempt to figure out what is happening. My fingers twitch with an oddly familiar desire to return the kiss, but my mind screams in protest at the crude act. Is this a common practice between gods? I'm unsure of how I feel about it. Lord Miguel pulls back after a few seconds and stares at me, one eyebrow rising slowly.

"What's wrong?"

I think of several answers all at once. There's a familiar tug that seems to beckon me closer, that urges me to close the small distance between us. I don't know where it came from, but I do know that I'd rather appreciate it if it went away.

"We must prepare ourselves for the ceremony." My voice cracks as I softly push him off of me. Lord Miguel appears hurt for a moment, but his expression quickly turns coy, like he believes this to just be a challenge. He bats his eyelashes a few times as if trying to convince me to change my mind.

I can pinpoint the exact moment his heart clenches in realization.

Lord Miguel green eyes flit around the temple as if he is just now noticing his surroundings. He looks down at his attire and picks at the garb awkwardly. "Right," he clears his throat, "I forgot."

The blond stands and takes a deep breath before traveling to the opposite side of the room in search of the pieces of his missing outfit. I stare at him as he picks up a golden bracelet and attaches it to his wrist. He fumbles with it as he attempts to close the latch with a shaky hand before eventually chucking it aside with a frustrated grunt. He runs a hand through his hair to hide the stray tresses and straightens his robes. I can tell he is struggling not to glance in my direction.

I pet my lips slowly as I stand, searching the room for my headdress. My old clothing sits folded on a nearby table next to my jewelry, but my headdress is nowhere to be seen. I want to ask Lord Miguel where it is. In fact, I have a great many questions for him. However, as I glance at him again and see him staring at a wall with an expression of utter exasperation, I decide it best to save any inquiries for a later time. I push the issue to the back of my mind, trying to forget the ordeal ever happened.

I snap the golden jewelry into place, admiring the smooth texture and beautiful designs. I try and straighten my wrinkled green robes, but after several minutes I can tell it's futile. Apparently my godly powers do not include fabric smoothing. My dark curls fall in my face as I work, and I blow them back several times before standing straight and pulling them behind my head. My eyes flit around the room in a desperate search for the ribbon that had held my hair back yesterday, but it is more hopeless a search than for my headdress.

"My Lords?"

Tzekal-Kan's voice breaks the heavy silence and shocks me into releasing my hair. He peers into the temple uncertainly through a small curtain, and his eyes light up when he sees the two of us already awake. He is wearing an exquisite ornament on his head in the form of a skull with golden arcs.

"My Lords, the preparations are complete. We await your esteemed arrival." He takes a few steps into the temple and bows low to the ground. Lord Miguel jumps to his feet and coughs into his hand before nodding stiffly.

"Yes, of course. We'll, uh, be with you momentarily." Tzekal-Kan backs out of the temple with a nod, his necklace clanging loudly as he does so.

"Well, we better go out there." Lord Miguel says, his voice low and cold.

"Yeah."

I follow him out onto a platform that overlooks the entire city. The High Priest stands at the edge, staring back at the entrance waiting for us to emerge. The Chief is off to the side with heavy disgruntlement shadowing his features. Servants litter the area, rushing about with this or that. It seems as though the entire city has congregated in the stands, and they swathe the area with their cheers of devotion.

As soon as the breaking dawn's light finds its way to my eyes, I swear it's like nothing I've ever felt. Pain blossoms over my head quickly and without mercy causing me to whine pitifully as I attempt to hold it in. The shouting and cheers only add to my misery, and I cover my eyes with my hand in an attempt to hide the light.

"Are you alright?" Lord Miguel asks in a hushed tone.

"Head. Hurts," I say as another wave of pain pulses behind my retinas. "_Badly._"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have had so much to drink last night." I lift my hand momentarily to glare at him, hoping my malicious glare is more effective than his.

"I'm a _god. _I didn't think it _mattered._"

Lord Miguel doesn't respond, but I think I see the faintest of smirks on his face.

"_The gods have arrived!_" The High Priest's voice rings out over the entire pavilion, and I try desperately not to wince. Why had I not felt this headache so badly in the temple?

_Because it was dark, and there was something far more entertaining to focus your attention on._

I swallow hard to force down the lump that has formed in my throat.

The native woman suddenly comes into view, spreading flowers across the platform from a large bowl. I struggle as I try and remember her name, but my headache and fact that I only heard it once are making the endeavor difficult. She is just as beautiful now as she was the last time I saw her; her gorgeous raven hair flowing over her shoulders like a waterfall, her skin as clear as the open sky.

"_Cheeel…?_" Lord Miguel whispers. His face claims he is calm and collected, but his strained voice tells a different tale. Chel glances at us over her shoulder and shakes her head quickly.

"Leave me out of this." She's fighting so hard to sound determined and resolute that the three of us pretend we don't hear her voice crack. She turns away from us and lowers herself to her knees, staring forward blankly. Lord Miguel's face grows pale, and he blinks rapidly as he tries to process her words.

"You…You said you would…" he trails off, shaking his head and looking away. I glance back and forth between them rapidly, vaguely wondering what had occurred between them.

"This city has been granted a great blessing, and what have we done to show our gratitude? A meager _celebration?_ " Tzekal-Kan shouts, "The gods deserve a proper tribute!"

Servants bring out a large bag decorated with blue ribbons and flowers. They place it in front of Tzekal-Kan and quickly move out of his way. The High Priest raises his hands above his head and begins to shout again.

"The beginning of a new era, the dawning of a new age demands…" Wind swirls around him and causes his hair and clothes to sway. The bag ripples and emits a ghoulish green glow. The entire scene has turned haunting and mystifying, and my attention is captivated by the man's magic. The ribbons turn red and twirl in the air before coming undone. The bag dissipates to reveal a man. He is hunched over with his arms crossed over his chest, he head bent at a low angle. "…sacrifice."

My first thought when I see the offering is not glee or mirth. It is not a bloodthirsty urge to rip him limb from limb. It is simply:

_Why was he in a bag?_

However, the High Priest's words soon catch up to me, and my breath catches in my throat at the meaning.

_Sacrifice._

The idea of someone dying for me is overwhelming and terrifying. I am reminded of the day before, when I had saved the mortal woman Chel, and the same surge of integrity wells in my chest. I'm about to shout out and stop this injustice when a thought suddenly occurs to me.

_What if I _need_ this?_

I press my fingers to my temple almost subconsciously as I try to think. Perhaps my memory loss and pain are because I'm not strong enough. Maybe I'm so confused because I haven't had a proper meal in a long time. Gods devour souls, right?

What if this man's death returns my memories?

So I close my mouth, and swallow down whatever words I was going to say. My eyes follow Tzekal-Kan as he lifts the mortal into a standing position, uneasiness stirring in the pits of my stomach.

"Oh my _god_." Lord Miguel whispers in horror. His tone confuses me, so I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

"Don't you want the tribute?" A small gasp forces its way from his mouth, and his green eyes widen with horror.

"_What?_ No. Tulio, _no!" _He gestures madly back and forth between the two of us. "_We _do not want this tribute!"

I glance forlornly at the man, watching as Tzekal-Kan raises his weapon in preparation to send the sacrifice to the swirling pits below. If my queasiness is any indication, I can understand how Lord Miguel feels just fine. However, as my eyes fall upon the man cowering on the edge of the cliff, and I think about the possibility of recovering what I've lost, I realize one outweighs the other by a fair margin. I shake my head at Lord Miguel, crossing my arms.

"No, _you_ don't want this tribute." For a moment, Lord Miguel looks completely shocked. However, I've stopped caring about saying the wrong thing. It doesn't matter what I say because, as a god, I can't really say anything wrong. Lord Miguel's face turns cold after a moment, and he shakes his head in disgust.

"You really have changed." Before I can process his words, Lord Miguel turns away from me and raises his arms. "_Stop!_"

I hold out an arm as if it's an attempt to hold him back, but a gut feeling from somewhere deep inside tells me that, no matter what I do, I won't be able to restrain him. Tzekal-Kan pulls his arms back at the last second to avoid striking the servant beneath him. All the magic that was once flowing around him vaporizes like it was never there, and the wind that had once blown stills, leaving his hair a disheveled mess. Lord Miguel walks straight up to his face and jabs a finger at his chest.

"You can't kill this man!" Tzekal-Kan looks stunned, but not ashamed.

"Is there a problem with this tribute?" He asks slowly. His small brown eyes shift between the sacrifice beside him and Lord Miguel. Finally, they land on me in a silent plea for help. Sighing, I approach Lord Miguel from behind.

"'Is there a _problem?' _How abo_—mmmmmf…"_ I walk up behind Lord Miguel and cup my hand around his mouth, pulling him back away from the High Priest.

"It's fine. Go ahead." I urge him. The words come out of my mouth, but I don't recall giving them permission to. _Is _there really no problem with all this?

Or have I just made a horrible mistake?

Tzekal-Kan blinks uncertainly, yet begins to turn back towards the sacrifice. When Lord Miguel sees this, he jerks his legs in a wild attempt to free himself.

"_Mmf!_"

Tzekal-Kan glances at me over the shoulder again, and when I nod he doesn't hesitate to bring the sword above his head once more. Miguel suddenly digs his elbow into my stomach, and I groan in protest.

"_No!_" he shouts.

Lord Miguel breaks free from my grasp and lunges for Tzekal-Kan's wrist, capturing it between his hands and yanking it backwards. In an effort to regain his balance, Tzekal-Kan pulls forward, ripping his arm from Lord Miguel's grasp. The High Priest's weapon is flung from either's grip and is sent spiraling towards the bubbling whirlpool below.

"_My Lord!_" The High Priest sputters indignantly. His eyes are wild and angry, and I can tell he is trying to keep his cool. Lord Miguel stares at his hands as if realizing what he has just done, his gaze shifting between me and Tzekal-Kan.

"Uhm…"

A silence settles over the arena as everyone waits for Lord Miguel's next words. It feels like the very atmosphere sits with bated breath. Even the birds have stopped crowing. Lord Miguel begins to fidget uncomfortably, and I realize that even he himself can't explain his actions.

"We do not want this tribute."

I blink in surprise as I realize that the voice doesn't belong to Lord Miguel; it belongs to me. The look Lord Miguel sends my way is mostly confused, but it is laced with enough relief to make me certain I've done the right thing. It's the High Priest's turn to look flustered, and he stands there speechless for several tense heartbeats. The tribute falls to his knees and breaks the High Priest out of his daze.

"I am afraid I do not understand…" the High Priest trails off.

"Well…" I glance at Lord Miguel as he picks up the unconscious man and drags him off to the side. "I—I mean look at him. He's so weak."

"I have other tributes." The High Priest takes on a tone of desperation, and I purse my lips. Is it just me, or did I just hear an almost inaudible gasp come from behind us? I try to think about who it may have come from, but I don't have time to ponder it.

"Don't bother," I don't give a reason why he shouldn't; I can't possibly need one…or think of one.

"My Lords," the Chief cuts in then, stepping into my line of vision in an effort to capture my attention. "May the people of El Dorado offer you our tribute." I must admit, Chief Tannabok had become all but forgotten; however, now that I turn to look at him, I see an arrogant smirk on his face that he's not even attempting to hide. Emerging from the temple are many women carrying basin after basin filled to the brim with golden trinkets.

I want to deny them. What on Earth are we going to do with gold in the literal _City of Gold?_ But there is just something about the way they catch the sun's rays that causes my heart to beat faster and my toes to curl. My fingers begin to feel especially sticky as the women draw closer and closer to us, and all I want to do is run towards them and take all the precious metal in my arms. This is considerably better than my previous feelings of guilt and despair.

"My Lords, does this please you?" The question is an easy one to answer. Yes. _Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes._

"Very well," I don't want them to think I care _too_ much.

"Much better," Lord Miguel sighs in relief. I'm glad that, for once, we can agree on something.

"The gods have chosen!" Chief Tannabok gives a pointed glance at the High Priest before turning back to us. "To Xibalba?"

_Touche Balba?_ I'm not sure what it means. I look to Lord Miguel, wondering what he thinks. He shrugs, as if he could care less, and I turn back to the Chief.

"To Xibalba!" I exclaim.

I don't hear Chel groaning in exasperation, I don't see the jealous glare of the High Priest, and I don't notice that Lord Miguel's blond hair glows just as brightly as the gold. All I can possibly think about at the moment is that all the beautiful shiny trinkets are being thrown over our heads and into the swirling pits of Xibalba.

_Wait. No, what?_

"Lord Miguel…?" I whine pitifully. But the blond doesn't seem to hear me; he is gazing at the gold with a faraway glaze in his eyes.

"He's going to kill me," he whispers.

I want to turn around and demand that the Chief stop this cruelty, but I realize that I _told _him to do this, and changing my mind at this point may sound weak. I watch as all the beautiful gold descends into the rapids below, and far, far from my reach.

The gold continues to fall until there are only a small number of woman left with basins. The window of time to stop this is swiftly disappearing, yet as more time passes, the more my resolve crumbles.

"_Stop!_"

This time, the shout came from the Chief himself. I vaguely wonder how many times someone is going to shout that word. I look over my shoulder to see the robust man standing there with his arms raised, and Chel standing next to him, looking extremely pleased with herself.

"They wish to bask! Take the tribute to the gods' temple!"

The few remaining women return to the temple, carrying what appears to be just five buckets of gold. Such a small tribute, but as I glance down at the churning torrents of Xibalba, I realize we may not have lost any of it. After all, we're from the Spirit World, right?

"Thanks," Lord Miguel whispers. I turn to see him standing next to Chel; a smirk spreads across her face at his words.

"Don't want you boys losing all our gold, now do we?" Lord Miguel huffs laughter and shakes his head, not bothering to reply. I follow the two of them back towards the temple, glancing over my shoulder with only one thought crossing my mind.

_It's tough to be a god._


	4. Chapter 4

**~Miguel~**

When Tulio and I landed on the beach several weeks ago, starving and weak from fatigue, to say I wasn't thinking straight is an understatement. Thanks to one part delirium and one part recklessness, Tulio and I found ourselves blazing through the jungle on the search for the Legendary City of Gold. I was so excited that I could hardly contain myself. At the time, nothing had ever seemed so important—so _necessary_ to my survival.

If I could go back right now, I'd rip the map in half and jump back into that boat with my partner. Anything we would have faced out in the middle of the sea would have been far less terrifying and difficult than this. At least we would have been together in the ocean.

Here, I'm all alone.

Of course, I use the term lightly. The hundreds of people surrounding us right now, chanting our names and shouting their devotion as we are carried down the street in a giant float, actually make me feel a little crowded. You know, in a good way. It's just that right now, inside the float where it's just the two of us, I've never felt so lonely.

Okay, I'm probably just overthinking this. I know that the person sitting next to me is Tulio—the real Tulio. Just because he looks and acts different doesn't change the fact that, somewhere deep inside, my partner is buried. I just don't know how to reach him, or if I even can.

Distinguishing between the two of them is difficult. The name Tulio is beginning to remind me of two separate entities. I glance at _Lord _Tulio out of the corner of my eye and that's exactly what I see: a god of El Dorado. Not my partner in crime from the hard streets of Spain. This man wears the bright eccentric colors of El Dorado and has an unfamiliar sparkle of adventure in his eye. I feel a twinge of irritation. Being the annoying idealist is _my _job. Then I immediately feel guilty. I know it's not his fault, but the entire situation has just spiraled out of control.

Tulio shakes his head to allow his hair to loosen out, but then has to brush the curls out of his eyes. That's perhaps the most jolting change. My Tulio hated it whenever his hair was down.

Is that what I'm going to start calling him now? My Tulio? Does such a notion even exist anymore?

"So…this is some fiesta, am I right?" I say in an attempt to break the ice. Tulio gives me a strange look out of the corner of his eye.

"What?"

"You know, fiesta. Party? …No?" Tulio's blank stare makes me sigh. It appears that, although Tulio could speak the language better than an angry Spanish grandmother the night before, his current state doesn't allow any such translation to take place. "Nevermind. It's just Sp—it's just Xibalban."

"Oh. You know, that reminds me…we're from the spirit world, right? What's it like?"

"It's…well…" I run a hand through my hair as I think of a way to respond. I don't enjoy blatantly lying to Tulio so often, especially since he's so lost. The thought that I'm indulging his delusion rather than helping him makes my heart clench in guilt. "It's, um, big. So big it would take years to travel it all. It looks very different than this."

Tulio's eyes are trained on me as he intently focuses on my words. It's like he's soaking up everything I say to fill what must be a large gaping hole. The last thing I want to do is bury his past in a lie.

So, I won't.

"It has smaller buildings, and most of them are white. The people are kind of dull, but there are a few interesting ones walking about. Some of them wear shining metal clothes and carry fire sticks that can kill anything, and some of them walk around in normal clothing and do chores all day. They're the slaves. If they do something out of line, the fire stick men will go after them and punish them. Most everyone looks out for themselves…but I knew one or two that had each other's backs…" I find myself describing Spain the way I remember it. In comparison, El Dorado really is like Heaven.

But that doesn't mean we get to stay.

The realization dawns on me. If I can get Tulio home, then maybe, just maybe, he'll see something there that reawakens the real Tulio. It may be the smell of fish and smoke, or the sound of guns being fired and men shouting from the harbor, perhaps just the atmosphere of being home. Whatever it is, he won't find it here. So far, El Dorado has had a nasty habit of stifling the real Tulio. Besides, I know that either way Tulio will have wanted to go back. After all, that was the plan. We just hit a bump along the way is all. Nothing we haven't handled in the past.

Tulio's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "What else?"

"Um," The question gives me pause. If I'm going to get Tulio to leave El Dorado, he's going to have to believe we're going to Xibalba. I doubt he'd be especially keen on leaving his people if he thought we were going anywhere else. It's the only feasible way I can think of. I fidget with my robes. "It's hard to describe. You would have to see it for yourself." I never realized just how much I missed Tulio rolling his eyes at me.

"Fine. There's something that's been bothering me though," he comments, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "if I'm a god, how did I lose my memory?"

"Uh…" Did Tulio feel like this all the time? Whenever I improvised our way out of a situation it was almost always bounced off of Tulio. My partner's stress suddenly seems much more understandable. "That's…the test?"

"Test?"

"Yes? It's, uh, tied to our mission."

"You mean the super vague and confusing one I still don't understand?"

"Yeah, that one," I take a moment to choose my next words, "and it's going to be huge and grand. It'll change the lives of everyone who lives here for all time, and they'll sing hymns of your valor for all eternity." It's only after I say it that I realize it would have been better to keep my mouth shut.

Tulio's eyes widen slowly as he goes over what I just said in his mind. His expression soon changes from that of contemplation to concern.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, if I was allowed to _tell _you, it wouldn't be called a_ test_, would it?"

"Well played." That earns a laugh. A tense one, but a laugh nonetheless. I look at Tulio out of the corner of my eye and see him reclining against some pillows, a contented expression donning his face. If I'm going to get Tulio out of El Dorado and back to Spain, he's going to have to perform a deed of great valor—whatever that means.

But first things first, I'm going to need a boat.

* * *

"A boat."

"Yep."

Okay, so even I can admit that I should have come here with more of a game plan than: _I need a boat. _Chief Tannabok is sitting across from me, an unreadable expression on his face. He's seated on an over-the-top throne, fingers curling in on the arms of his chair. I'm accommodated on an incredibly comfy sofa, situated between three lavish pillows, yet I still hang on the edge of my seat, not comfortable enough with the situation to lean back and try to enjoy myself, but motivated enough not to run outside and try and swim back to Spain with my bare hands.

The plans were always Tulio's region. I just pulled them together. Tulio took the time and effort to think through every possibility. He thought about the consequences of our actions, often warning me what to do and what not to do. If he had enough time, he'd sometimes create a plan so detailed our actions would be scheduled precisely to the minute. Though more often than not they were rushed and flawed with so many loop-holes and faults they seemed like the ravings of a mad man. Those were always the ones I loved the most, because those were the ones that most often worked. When you're under the pressure of the clock, it's easy to make mistakes. When they are no mistakes that can be made (or that haven't been pointed out) it's much simpler to do your job. It was all too complicated for me, but he could always think of a way out of or into any situation. But we both knew that a large majority of his plans would never work without my special little touch. Tulio shoveled the sand into a box, and I built the sand castle.

I can't build castles without sand.

I glance around Chief Tannabok's quarters casually as I try to think of why we have to leave. His room has a very mellow color scheme, mostly made up of soothing blues and warm yellows. Plants thrive in overhangs and give the room an overall sense of life. I decide I like it. It suits him.

"You're leaving already? We expected you to be staying for another thousand years." Chief Tannabok says after several tense moments of silence. His previously blank expression has shifted into something that resembles apprehension. His eyebrows furrow, and his eyes squint slightly as if he is confused, but I can see the concern embedded in his warm eyes. He honestly thinks something is wrong.

Well, I guess he'd be right.

"Uhhh, yeah, no, we aren't staying that long. We really just decided to check in, you know, to see how things are going. And you guys are doing brilliantly, but, um, it's about time we go back up home or the family will begin to worry." I point a finger straight upwards, hoping that in this religion the gods' home is in the sky and that for once I don't look like a lunatic. The Chief raises an eyebrow, and for a moment I fear that I do, and that he'll say something contradictory to my statement that rips my excuse into a million pieces. I rub the back of my neck where sweat has started to bead and grin weakly. Thankfully, he merely crosses his arms in contemplation.

"It'll take about a week to build a boat glorious enough for the gods." Why do I have the sinking feeling that if Tulio and I stay in El Dorado for that long we won't be leaving in one piece?

"Oh. Wow. Okay. Seven days. Right. Um, we kind of told our friends we'd be back in a couple days. You know how it goes with the whole godly betting thing. It's real popular nowadays." Even I have to admit the longer I go on, the more pathetic I sound. I clear my throat. "…Anyhow, is there any possible way you could get us home sooner?"

"Well…" his face scrunches up in deliberation, and I suddenly realize how difficult this must be for him. He has to fit a week's worth of work into a considerably shortened time. He must be thinking of all the people he'll have to hire, probably how much to pay the native's for their labor, and how to tell the citizen's that their beloved idols are leaving. Oh well.

It's nothing compared to how difficult it is for me.

"Look, it doesn't have to be a big boat, just enough to hold three people and a little gold. Help me out."

His reluctance is tangible. I'm sure that if I reach out, I'll be able to grab a chunk of it from the very air. I swallow, staring intensely at the Chief. I don't understand why I feel so nervous. Sure, in every scam there's always that pit in the bottom of your stomach. The one that reminds you there's a good chance that whatever you're doing isn't going to work out well for you. Normally, I ignore that feeling. It can be very restricting to improvisational skills to constantly be worried about what's coming out of your mouth. However, for whatever reason, right now the pit refuses to be ignored. I can feel the anxiety practically clawing its way out my throat.

He must somehow understand how much I've gone through just by looking at me. Something in his eyes changes when he meets my gaze, and the atmosphere softens considerably. He leans back in his chair and huffs a giant sigh.

"How about three days?" It's still two days too long, which is far, _far_ too long. But I don't want to push it. At this stage in the game, I'm lucky to have what I've got. I shrug and roll my eyes ever so slightly as if the idea doesn't bother me in the least.

"Three days will work, I guess."

"I apologize, Lord Miguel. But my hands are tied." I hold in my sigh, forcing a small smile to stretch across my face. I finally allow myself to get comfortable and lean back into the couch, leaning against the firm pillows for support. I cross one leg over the other.

"No, no, it's okay. Three days is fine." But is it? Somehow, I feel like if Tulio were here we'd be leaving tomorrow at the latest.

It all comes back to the sand.

* * *

_This is bad. This is really, really bad._

I walk back to our temple slowly and deliberately, my thoughts weighing me down. We have barely managed to survive in the amount of time we've been here so far. I doubt that we can handle three more days. That's a _lot _of hours of me being in charge. I drag my hands down my face and take a deep breath.

"I'm fine. I can do this."

Somehow the words don't comfort me as much as they should.

I glance up to see our temple looming above us. Walking down the stairs is no trouble at all; however, walking up the steps is a different story entirely. By the time I reach the top, I'll be panting and wheezing and too tired to think.

Oh well, one step at a time.

I had left Chel in charge of Tulio when I'd departed. I figured that bringing him with me wouldn't have been a good idea, and I didn't tell him where I was going. I'm sure he's in good hands with her, but my legs still move faster than normal in my sudden haste to check on him. All I can see is Tulio kissing her knuckles like a gentleman. Chivalry is so…_unlike_ him.

Suddenly the term "good hands" doesn't strike me as particularly _good_ anymore.

My chest is heaving as I reach the entrance to the temple. I take a moment to compose myself before brushing aside the curtains and walking inside. I don't see Tulio right away, but Chel is reclining on the sofa in the middle of the room, popping green grapes into her mouth.

"Where's Tulio?" I demand. Chel freezes for the briefest second, hand resting on top of the bowl of grapes. The moment passes in the span of a single blink and I'm left wondering if I only imagined it.

"He left. He might have been looking for you." She says it as if it's the most casual thing in the world. As if there's nothing wrong with the fact that Tulio is currently out there doing God knows what.

This must be what madness feels like. I can feel it creeping up in the back of my mind, preparing to spring at any moment. Like it's just waiting for the perfect moment to make me snap. I don't like it.

"Why didn't you go with him?" I ask. Chel laughs and looks at me, anything but amusement sparkling in her eyes.

"He's an adult. He can take care of himself."

I blink, mouth open as I try to think of an argument. I am just now realizing that Chel does not know Tulio like I do. That she has no reason to assume anything is wrong with him. For all she knows, Tulio has always been like this. I want to smack myself for having forgotten to tell her such an obvious thing. It seems Tulio isn't the only one with the impaired memory here.

"Well…no, he can't. Remember the party?" I remind her. She tosses the remaining grapes back into the bowl and stands up, turning to face me.

"Fine. He's a _sober _adult and can take care of himself. Why are you so worried?"

"Because…well…" When I see the look that passes across her face the words die in my throat; a look that I know so well I can recognize it in a heartbeat; a look that I've seen Tulio wear countless times and one that he doesn't always try and hide. He wears it whenever I talk to anybody for longer than ten minutes, or when I get overly comfortable in a con. He always complains about it afterward even when I explain that it was all part of the act. It's a look that I recall my face scrunching into when I saw Tulio and Chel together, and it's a look that I now know I cannot stand seeing someone else have for Tulio.

Jealousy.

I don't normally consider myself the jealous type. I usually love it when everyone just gets along. But Tulio had never given me a reason to be jealous before now, and as I stare at the gorgeous woman in front of me, her brown eyes trying to hide the truth behind her prying, I realize that maybe I've changed a little too. Chel is an accomplice in our con. She's going to come with us to Spain, she's going to get a small portion of the gold, and then we're never going to talk to her again.

Maybe I'm overreacting, but at this point, I can't avoid not to.

"Because Tulio doesn't think. He doesn't know what to say or do. He's going to get us caught." If the small spark of triumph in my chest is any indication, then Chel's flustered expression is what I was going for. Anything is better than jealousy.

"Well, why don't you go after him, then? We wouldn't want to get caught, would we?" Chel points towards the opposite end of the temple from where I entered and I immediately begin strutting towards it, trying to ignore the small smirk that dons her features. I don't miss the fact that she used the term "we" and I know that she knows that I noticed. For a moment I'm upset by her brazen assumption before I realize that we have a deal and _technically_ our duo is a trio.

For now.


	5. Chapter 5

**~Tulio~**

_ A flicker of something invades my senses and I pause in an effort to decipher it. It smells like a sweet citrus. Or, more specifically, oranges. The scent floats past me in an intoxicating puff, causing my brain to shut-down. Something about it is so familiar, but I just can't place my finger on it. There's something about them that causes my heart to flutter. I feel a bubble in my chest trying to break free like laughter you can't hold back. It whispers a secret I can't understand, and, before I can even try, the moment passes, leaving me to once again fall into the depths of confusion and loneliness. _

_ How could such a simple thing cause me to fall apart like that?_

…

I place a hand on the temple wall for balance as my brain focuses back into reality. I close my eyes as frustration builds in my stomach. For the smallest of moments, I had been overwhelmed by the strangest sensation. It reminded me of something I left behind. I have no idea what it could possibly be, and I take a deep breath as the situation breaks upon me like a tide.

I wake up with no memory of who I am only to find out I'm a god in a legendary city of gold. I have powers of mass destruction but no inkling on how to control them, and I have a companion who has all the answers but refuses to share them with me.

Am I missing anything?

Well, I'm definitely missing _something._ I feel so sure about what I am, only to be struck with doubt. Even though I have such a huge part of the puzzle solved, there's still so much left to fill in. How can I be expected to do this all by myself?

I'm a god. I'm Lord Tulio of El Dorado. They'll sing hymns of my valor for all eternity. That's who I am.

Right?

I close my eyes as I remember the conversation with Lord Miguel in the float. An act of great valor. What is that supposed to mean? I rub my temples as I walk deeper into the temple, hoping to sit down on the couch and think about it. I don't understand why he can't just tell me what I'm supposed to do. If I can accomplish whatever task I'm meant to do without knowing it, I sure as hell can do it when I know what that job is.

"Could you keep an eye on him for me?"

Lord Miguel's voice permeates the silence of the temple. I stop dead in my tracks as the meaning of his words catch up to me. I don't know what it is that causes me to duck behind a pillar at the sound of it, but I'm glad that I have done so. I peer around the edge of the column and see him chatting with the native girl Chel. He's standing in front of a mirror and preening his appearance; smoothing his robes and straightening his plumes. Chel is standing behind him, an exasperated look on her face.

"Why?" Chel pipes up, stretching her arms above her head like she's bored. I want to ask the same question. I don't have to be watched like I'm some sort of infant. Lord Miguel stares at his reflection for a moment more before turning back around and shrugging.

"I have to go do something. Just watch him for me, okay?" I hear Chel's huff of indignation, but she doesn't protest anymore. Lord Miguel smiles in thanks and backs away towards the stairs. When he is sure she's not going to complain any further, he whirls around and vanishes down the steps, like he's afraid if he dawdles he'll have to convince her all over again.

I suddenly feel unsafe. Lord Miguel is the only tie to my past, the only one who knows everything. Without him, I am truly and undeniably lost.

Where is he going? I'm almost tempted to follow him, regardless of the fact that he left me behind. In fact, all I'd have to do is distract Chel momentarily before I make my escape. My eyes flit around the room as I attempt to find a way to lure her away long enough for me to escape. Perhaps those grapes on the table nearby could help. I'm not sure how though. She doesn't seem the type to follow a trail of grapes.

"You can come out now." My eyes snap to Chel and see her staring straight back at me. All ideas of escape immediately vanish from my mind and I clear my throat and step out from my hiding place, wondering why my palms feel so sweaty.

"I can take care of myself." I say immediately, knowing there's no point in pretending I didn't hear anything. Besides, I'm hoping to remind her that a god does not need a babysitter. "Just so you know."

"I know," she states simply, not bothering to clarify. We sit in a tense silence for several heartbeats before she breaks it. "So who were you before you got here?"

I stiffen, the atmosphere suddenly heating up more than is comfortable. The question is irrefutably nosy. It surprises me because she never struck me as the type; curious and intrusive, yes, but not snoopy. Her inquiry makes me swallow hard as I realize all over again how impossible it is for me to answer. Oh well, when you can't answer you can always dodge. I take a deep breath and raise my eyebrows.

"What kind of question is that?" She laughs softly and takes a step closer to me.

"Well you don't have to get all defensive about it." She shrugs. "It was just a question."

"I'm not getting _defensive._" I protest. "It's just strange to ask someone who they used to be instead of finding out who they are." It's not until the words come out of my mouth that I realize just how true they are. There's really no point in prying into someone's past. Someone's past does not define who they are; I know it doesn't define me. I can literally do whatever I want and no one can tell me I'm acting out of character.

Chel crosses her arms tightly across her chest at my words, her eyes staring behind me. She looks like she's trying to cave in and find refuge in herself. I'm clearly not the only one who is lost here. Suddenly she blinks and focuses her eyes back on me. She shakes her head microscopically and smirks again. She sidles closer to me until she's just a few feet away, but I don't miss the sudden damper in her energy.

"Well that's what I'm trying to do," she drawls, "What is the great _Lord_ Tulio like?" She brushes her fingers through her long hair as she asks the question and I glance away, swallowing hard. The baton has been tossed to me, and she awaits my response. She thinks we're playing, but I'm not in the mood for a game.

"I, uh, don't really know." I say it because it's true, but also because it's the only answer I could ever give her. Even if I had known who I used to be, how is someone supposed to answer that question? Does anyone really know what they are like? When you get so caught up in your own fantasy of who you want to be, you can sometimes lose track of who you are. When someone asks you what you're like, it can be difficult to separate the two. It's a ridiculous question to begin with anyway. You can't truly expect anyone to give an honest answer.

"You're not going to give me anything?" she sticks out her lower lip in a half-hearted pout. "Anything at all?"

"Nope," I wish I could tell her something about myself. I wish I could tell her all of my habits and problems. I want to be able to describe to her in the utmost detail how I came to be. I want to be able to use my own words to paint a picture of my home, and show her just who I am because I know myself that well. But who am I kidding really? Even if I had never lost my memories in the first place I wouldn't be able to do such a thing. No one really can describe themselves quite like someone who has taken the time to get to know them. Just like your voice sounds different to yourself than it does to other people, your true character is known only to those who have been around long enough to memorize it. She'd be better off asking Lord Miguel. He knows me better than anyone at the moment. "What about you, then?" I manage to say, desperate not to talk about myself anymore. "What are you like?"

"Sorry, honey," she says, a smirk playing at her lips. "It's a give and take process."

This one is very tricky.

"I'm a god," I reiterate. I try to ignore Chel rolling her eyes at me. The only thing I know for sure about myself is my divinity, and so that's what I'm going to give her. She asked me what I was like, and that's the closest thing to an answer she's ever going to receive, because it's the closest thing to an identity that I have.

"That's not exactly what I meant." She's beginning to get far too close for comfort. I take an unsteady step backwards and gulp when my back bumps into the pillar.

"I'd be careful if I were you." I warn her, glancing from side to side. "You shouldn't make me angry." I'm hoping that will finally put her in her place. The vague reminder that I have powers should be enough to get her imagination going. Instead, she just rolls her eyes again.

"Ooh right. Forgive me," Something about her tone causes a flare of indignation to ignite in my chest. "I'm so scared now."

"If you're going to pretend," I mutter under my breath, "you could at least _try_ to act scared." A small burst of laughter escapes her throat and I feel an eyebrow raise on its own. The comment wasn't meant to be humorous. "What?"

"If _you're_ going to pretend, you could at least try to act like a god." She counters.

Silence.

"What did you say?" I ask. She blinks uncertainly, as if she's doesn't understand what she did wrong.

"What, you don't _actually_ think you're a god, do you?" As the phrase falls from her lips I'm reminded of what Lord Miguel had said to me just yesterday.

_You're kidding me. Tulio, you're not a god._

Why is everyone around here so convinced that I'm not a god? You'd think stopping a volcano with nothing but your voice would be more than enough proof for most people. A small idea begins to form in the back of my mind as I stare at Chel's confused expression. She honestly believes that gods aren't real.

I just need to prove her wrong.

"If gods aren't real, then how did I stop that volcano earlier?" I challenge her.

"If there's one thing I do believe in, it's luck." She says quietly. I don't respond, unable to think of any words to say. That must be my mission: to provide the nonbelievers who live here with faith. To finally make them believe that the gods are watching over them. And maybe, just maybe, doing my job will give me what I crave most.

But how am I supposed to do this? I don't know anything about being a god. Perhaps that's part of the test. I just have to believe that I'm a god, and it will be true. But I still can't figure this out by myself. I am suddenly overcome with an urge to talk to Lord Miguel again. He knows what he's doing; he should have advice for me.

"Hold that thought. I'll be back." I have no idea where Lord Miguel has gone, but I'm sure if I ask around a bit it shouldn't be too hard to find him. I head towards the first staircase I find and whirl around before I take the first step.

"Stay right there. Don't move." I tell her. She falls down onto the couch with a sigh and grabs a nearby bowl of grapes.

"Fine by me," she murmurs, popping a green one into her mouth.

Hm. Maybe she would follow a trail of grapes.

I turn back towards the outside and stop dead in my tracks at the sight I behold. A blue-green sky melts into the skyline and fades into a rich yellow, accented with the purest white clouds. Vibrant green trees surround the earth and provide comforting scenery. The vegetation is spotted with various mini waterfalls, creating a calming soundtrack for the city along with the singing of the wildlife. The bright warm colors of El Dorado pull it all together, creating a vibrant display of paradise.

It makes me wonder what Heaven looks like.

I blink to get ahold of myself and descend the stairs, wondering how on Earth I'm going to find my companion in a city as large as this one.

The streets are eerily quiet as I stroll down them. The entire city radiates an aura of pure joy, and yet it feels so quiet. The two don't go together. One would expect to see children running around smiling as brightly as the sun. Instead, there's nothing. It feels almost like a spell has been cast, freezing the world into a moment of silence. Everything is still and caught in its own infinity, waiting for the next moment to move on.

"Hello?" I call out softly. I almost regret saying anything; it feels like the spell has been broken.

There is no response, not that I had expected to receive one. I keep walking down the avenues, brushing my hands along stray leaves whose branches reach beyond the walls. I can hear the cool beating of the various small waterfalls, but other than that, nothing.

There's suddenly a quiet rustling in the leaves. I pause, not sure if it was the wind or something else entirely. I slowly turn my head in the direction of the incriminating sound just in time for the vegetation to explode as a beast charges from the leaves. I cry out in shock and hit the deck, waiting for the inevitable flash of pain to come.

I peer back at the streets when no such flash occurs. A small armadillo is playing in the streets, chasing a butterfly. I cough into my hands as I push myself to my feet, happy for the first time that no one was around to see that.

Deciding it best to ignore the animal, I keep walking, leaving the dumb thing behind me. I turn a corner slowly, eyes roaming over everything. Suddenly my eyes land on a man standing in the middle of the street. He's facing away from me and a leopard skin hood is draped over his shoulders. He's holding a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. I breathe a sigh of relief that I have finally found someone. The silence was beginning to drive me mad.

"Hey you," I call out. When he turns around, he reels back in shock at the sight of me. His face pales and his mouth gapes slightly as if he can't find the words to say. I raise an eyebrow at the sight of him, but don't comment on it.

"Yes, my Lord?" he finally manages.

"What happened to everyone?" The city is beautiful just by itself, but I want to see what it would look like the way it's supposed to: full of life and echoing with laughter.

"They've been cleared from the streets my Lord, so the city can be cleansed – as you ordered."

Order? What order? I don't recall doing such a thing. He must be referring to Lord Miguel. Perhaps that's why he left—to give this order. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of what 'cleansed' is supposed to mean.

"As _I_ ordered?" I ask, causing him to blink rapidly.

"Well, yes. Tzekal-Kan has told us your demands my Lord."

"And what, _exactly_," I inquire slowly, "were my demands?"

"That the Age of the Jaguar should begin, my Lord." He says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and then shrinks back when he realizes his tone of voice. But I don't mind it; I just want to know what he's talking about. Something about the way he said it sets off a spark of worry in the bottom of my stomach.

"The Age of the Jaguar?"

"Yes. When the sun was covered, Tzekal-Kan said that the gods would visit El Dorado and 'purge the city of vice and sin'. That they would cleanse the city with blood and sacrifice." The man trails off nervously and glances down at the ground. "He said that—"

"Get back in! Where are you going?"

The guard is cut off by the shout of another man. I look to my right sharply to see two warriors towering over a young man. His eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping open in silent shrieks of fear.

"Move! Move!" they shout. They shove their spears in his face and the man shrinks back with a gasp. The sight causes me to grind my teeth. My fingernails dig in my palm as I clench my fists so tightly my knuckles turn white. I'm not even sure what it is that has me so angry about the entire affair, but when I see the poor man squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn't have to watch I let out a small snort of disgust.

"What's going on?" I demand, turning back towards the guard. He looks at me and furrows his eyebrows as if once again he thinks I should already know the answer. He gives a small sigh and sends a disproving face towards the young man before responding.

"Anyone who disobeys your orders must be punished," he says. He looks back at me solemnly "It's as you ordered."

This is all wrong. This wasn't supposed to be my mission. I shake my head in denial. I never gave such an order, which leaves Lord Miguel. I think back to how adamantly against the sacrifice he had been and wonder how the same man ordered so much pain and destruction. Is this my destiny as a god? To bring about the Age of the Jaguar and flood the streets of this beautiful city with the blood of innocent men?

Where's the valor in that?

I thought that my mission here was peaceful. I thought I had finally figured it out. I'm meant to bring faith to this city and help those who cannot help themselves. Lord Miguel said there was a test, and I thought I had finally determined what he meant by that. The test is the strength of my belief. I want to deliver faith to these people and see their faces light up as they realize that the gods here want what's best for them. These people are below me, but that doesn't mean I want their blood pooling at my feet.

Lord Miguel must have different plans then. It was naïve of me to assume otherwise I suppose.

"No, no I would never say that." My breaths become more and more shallow. "I don't like it. Make them stop."

I say it because I have to make him understand it wasn't me. I don't want any of this. Though he may try to hide it, the guard can never fully disguise the fear written plain as day on his face. The people here are scared of me – of us – and now I know why.

I'd be scared too, if I met the person destined to be my undoing.

The guard hesitates, but he eventually takes in a breath to bark a command at the warriors. One of them freezes immediately and whirls around. When he sees me his reaction is similar to the guard's pale face and wide eyes. However, the other warrior blatantly ignores the guard, continuing to jab his spear in the native's face.

"Hey!" I raise my hand in an automatic effort to gain his attention, but let it fall back to my side when I realize the guard is facing away from me. He still doesn't move. Instead, he raises his spear high above his head in preparation for a piercing blow. "Stop!"

Before I can think about it my legs are rushing towards the scene, sprinting to stop a crisis that should never have happened in the first place. As my bare feet slap against the stone pavement, all I can think is that I can't bring about the Age of the Jaguar. I may be a god, but that doesn't make me a murderer, it doesn't make me a _monster._ The beginning of a better age for these people will begin with me saving this one person.

My hands slam into the warrior's shoulder, with more force behind the push than I had anticipated. The warrior obviously had not expected such a force and topples over with a cry of shock. I see what's going to happen before it actually does, and I reach out my arm in an attempt to catch his wrist, but I'm too late.

Far, far too late.

There's a sickening snap and the sound of tearing flesh as he falls upon the same spear he had almost used to harm someone else. The weapon splinters, sending small shards of wood everywhere. El Dorado is full of obnoxious colors, but the rest pale in comparison to the red pooling under the warrior's body. The unmistakable copper scent fills my lungs and my throat closes in an effort not to gag. There's a strangled cry, but I can't tell if it is from the dying warrior or me. His body struggles for only a moment before it stills.

The hush that envelopes El Dorado is deafening. The birds stop chirping, the waterfalls stop roaring, the creatures stop breathing. Everything mutes in that one moment as comprehension takes over and no one is sure how to react.

The silence doesn't last long before the native I'd been trying to save makes eye contact with me, forcing himself to drag his eyes from the man who had just tried to kill him to the person who just spared his life. Neither of us moves for what feels like an eternity. I just keep staring into his big brown eyes, so full of a fear so strong he can't control his shaking. He blinks and looks away, suddenly tripping over himself as he tries to run, knocking over a stand and falling back to the ground. He gets back to his feet in moments and keeps going, no longer looking back.

The other warrior lets his spear slip from his fingers. The clatter it makes as it hits the ground seems to snap the man out of his shock. He backs away from me, his hands in front of him as if he's warding me off. With one final glance at the dead body beside me he takes off in the opposite direction not far behind the fleeing native.

"My Lord," the guard who had just spoken with me whispers, his eyes wide in disbelief. He falls to his knees, weapons landing next to him audibly. "I'm sorry. Please don't be angry."

He should be running too. I take in a ragged breath as my hands slowly turn clammy. He should be fleeing, not worshipping. I take a step back from him, deciding that if he won't run then I will. Without responding, I whirl around and take off, leaving the guard and his dead combatant behind me.

My hair bounces behind me as the wind pushes it backwards. I run blindly, not knowing where I'm going and not especially caring. Somewhere in the back of my mind I vaguely wonder how I lost my memory the first time, and hope that somehow I'll be able to do it again. My head is empty, full of less than twenty-four hours, and the scene replays in my mind over and over again. I just killed an innocent man.

And this time I'll never forget it.


	6. Chapter 6

**~Miguel~**

It's difficult to describe the knot that grows in your stomach when you know something has gone wrong. As a feeling that occurs on a constant basis in my line of work, I've gotten to know it very well, and I know that it always means something. I used to assume it was just a tool of the trade, but Tulio always swore that he never felt it. It reminds me of this one old guy I used to know when I was a child. He had claimed that his bones could predict the weather, and no matter what anyone else said his predictions were always right.

The worst part? It's never been wrong for me before either.

My steps are hesitant as they lead me down the temple steps and across a deserted street. The city is hushed as usual, but now it feels like more than just that. It feels…_scared. _It's not just quiet, it's _silent. _My steps quicken in my sudden haste to find my partner and figure out what happened.

I stop by the small lake in the middle of the city that leads to the gate. Giant colorful fish swim underneath the clear water, and I watch them for a moment, completely captivated. It makes me wonder how hypnotized by this city I would become if I actually had a guide.

I suddenly hear a loud whinny to my left and I turn quickly, caught off guard. There's Altivo, running towards me as fast as his legs can carry him and shaking his head about as if he's possessed.

"Woah, hey! Calm down, boy." I grab his reins when he reaches me and pull his snout down close to my face. "Calm down, it's alright."

It takes him a little while, but when he has settled, he pulls at the restraint roughly. I glance over my shoulder once before letting go of his reins, hoping that wherever he takes me won't be too far from Tulio.

I follow the white horse around several corners and walk down many streets before I finally catch sight of him. My partner's hunched over on a bench that's pressed up against the wall, his face buried in his hands. He's sitting perfectly still, and the knot in my stomach intensifies dramatically as I approach him. Altivo jerks his head towards him, and I'm almost positive I'm not mistaking the tinge of sadness I see in the beast's eyes.

"Tulio?" His head snaps up at the sound of my voice and my nose automatically curls at the sight of him. His eyes are hollow and sunken, staring at me but seeing nothing. His normally blue eyes look closer to gray than anything. His skin is pale like he's about to be sick, and the thought causes me to take a step back. His curly black hair has turned completely unmanageable, and I'm reminded as to why he always kept it back: it frizzes when he runs too fast. "Are you alright?"

He huffs a small laugh, but he doesn't sound amused. "Not really," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What'd you do this time?" I ask. I plop down next to him and lean back, hoping that if I act like it's no big deal, then he'll feel the same. I've seen Tulio with this very same expression many times in the past, and it's always been over something small. Normally he was either sick, drunk, or paranoid, but it had happened over other stuff too. It reminds me of when we were prisoners on Cortes' ship, only this time he looks more…_haunted_.

"Lord Miguel, why didn't you want to sacrifice that man this morning?"

He diverted the question. If I was dealing with the Old Tulio that would mean the situation was no big deal and he just didn't feel like talking about it. But I'm not dealing with the Old Tulio anymore, I'm dealing with this New Tulio, someone who reflects the man I knew, but is nowhere close to being the same. Tulio was who he was because of what he'd gone through. Without those experiences I have no idea what to expect. That prospect is the most terrifying to me.

"Uh," I hesitate, trying to think of any pros and cons to answering this question, "because killing is wrong?"

Tulio closes his eyes slowly, exhaling softly. "Of course it is."

"Tulio…?" I don't even know what I had planned on asking. His eyes slide back open and when he focuses his dull eyes on me my breath catches.

Now that I'm closer, I can see that his eyes are still blue. But they no longer hold the sparkle they used to have. Instead, they are dull and scared. I realize that this really isn't Tulio at all. No matter what it is that he'd done, Tulio always kept fighting; he was strong like that. He didn't let things get to him. This man looks so weak that I can hardly say I recognize him at all. The look in his eyes reminds me of only one time in the past that my partner has looked like this.

A long time ago, when we were only kids, Tulio lost his mother. It wasn't long after I knew him, so he never wanted to talk about it to me. He refused to talk to anyone, really. He stopped eating and he never got enough sleep. Whenever we went to the marketplace he always made us give the fruit stalls a wide berth, claiming that if he had to smell the oranges he'd be sick. He always had deep bags under his eyes too, so I knew he wasn't sleeping. Before that point he'd been obnoxious and talkative, always finding his way into and out of trouble. Then afterwards, he was never quite the same. The spark did come back - it always did - he had just lost his sense of adventure.

Now, that spark has disappeared again, and this time I have no idea why.

"Why am I here, Lord Miguel?" he asks in a whisper. "Why are _we _here?"

It's that question again. He keeps asking it, and each time it gets more and more difficult to answer. I want to know why he's so determined on knowing why we're here. Why can't he just accept what I've told him and try to figure it out on his own so I don't have to think about it?

"I told you," I begin, "it's for the mis—"

"Stop dancing around the issue." His voice sharpens and he raises his hands in agitation, leaving them to hang in midair. "Please, just tell me why I'm here."

"Um," I blink rapidly, my eyes flitting everywhere as if the response I'm searching for is hidden somewhere in the city. How am I supposed to tell him that I don't know? "Well, um, we're supposed to…to…er—"

"Forget it," he interrupts with a sigh. "You're just going to lie again." He leans his head against the wall and stares straight up at the sky, his voice once again turning soft. "Besides, I think I'd rather not know."

"What happened?" I ask, lowering my voice to a comforting murmur.

"I didn't mean to." Eyes growing wider, he turns to face me. "It was an accident."

"You forgot to tell me what you did," I remind him gently. I place my hand on his shoulder as a gesture of condolence but quickly pull it away when he flinches. He acts as though I'm here to hurt him, and I lean forward, suddenly concerned about what he might have done.

"Lord Miguel," he says, "I killed someone."

"You did _what?_" Okay, big deal. _Definitely_ a big deal. This is quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened to him—I would know. I can only imagine how much worse it could have been if he had his memories. I have no doubt he'd be an even bigger mess.

"You heard me." His voice turns cold, hostile, daring me to call him what he's doubtless already called himself a thousand times—a monster.

"How did that happen? I—" I almost add that I had only left him alone for thirty minutes, but at this point I quickly decide it would be less than constructive.

"I—I don't really know. It happened so fast. He was hurting someone else and I tried to stop him…and there was blood and then he…" Tulio trails off, swallowing hard. For a moment, we lapse into a heavy silence, neither of us looking at each other.

For as long as I've known him, Tulio has never been the morally righteous type. He's a thief. A _conman._ The very word oozes with fraud and crime. However, murder has always been a touchy subject for him. Ever since his mother died, he's been against the very idea.

I wish I knew how to explain to him that killing isn't the same as murdering.

This would never have happened if Chel had done what I had asked her to. I _told_ her to watch him for just this reason. I know Tulio better than anyone, and when _I_ don't even know what he's going to do, that's when you've got to be careful.

It's now that I'm beginning to realize how ridiculous this all is. Here we are, in the Legendary City of Gold, a place most men can only _dream_ about going, and all we're doing is moping over lost things. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that I have to squeeze into three days, and Tulio is going to experience it whether he likes it or not.

Besides, I can tell the last thing he needs is to dwell on it any longer.

"Come on," I say, standing with a flourish, "we're going for a walk." Tulio looks up at me as if I've grown another head. I offer my hand down to him and he stares at it for a moment before taking it and standing himself.

"Thank you, L—" a strange expression comes across his face for a moment before he continues, "Thanks, Miguel."

I swear I can feel my heart constricting and imploding in on itself. The way he said that made it seem—if only briefly—that he was never gone. I give him a smile in reply, trying not to let him know how it affected me. Perhaps Tulio isn't as far away as he seems.

"Why, you're very welcome, Tulio."

He hasn't released my hand, and as I drag him behind me in my pursuit of something enjoyable for us to remember, I realize that it would be impossible for me to let go of him again.

* * *

"Nothing is happening."

Tulio plucks a leaf off of a nearby tree and examines it for a moment before letting it float to the ground. The entire walk he's been trailing behind and sulking, his shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes aimed at the ground. I had hoped that we would find _somebody _out and about so that we could do something to take his mind off of it, but after traveling all throughout the city and encountering nothing, we've found ourselves on the edges of the city where thick walls of vegetation surround us like we're caught in a hedge maze.

"That's not _my_ fault," I say with a laugh. It's not until Tulio's eyes darken that I realize how he must have taken my words. I've spent the entire trip trying desperately not to mention it, and it sees that time after time I keep failing. I slap a hand over my mouth and shake my head. "That's not what I meant," I quickly clarify.

"I know it's not. But it's still true."

"No, I'm sure that…" I trail off as my eyes go beyond Tulio's head to see the leaves bristling behind him. Just between the leaves I can see a light brown, a color that isn't part of El Dorado's natural color scheme – unless you count the people, of course. As I'm staring, I see a pair of brown eyes peer between the vegetation, only to disappear when they see me looking.

"What are you looking at?" Tulio glances over his shoulder but apparently doesn't see anything. He looks back at me, his eyebrows rising. I force my gaze back to Tulio and blink as I try and focus again.

"Um, nothing. Do me a favor, would you?" I ask.

"Uh, sure?" Mild fear alights in his eyes when he sees my expression.

"Great. Thanks." Without further hesitation I drag him to a large hedge and shove him inside of it.

"Ow, hey!" he cries out as twigs stab at his arm, but I shush him. I can hear him grumbling and muttering obscenities under his breath, but other than that he seems compliant enough. I take a step back and try to determine whether you can see him from outside the plant, and, when I am certain it can't be done, I can't suppress the grin the spreads across my face.

"Just trust me. And be quiet."

I have a plan. A sort of, kind of half-plan. There are so many factors that could go wrong, and many more that may be assumptions rather than truth, but I know that I have to at least give it a shot. I glance back at where I had seen the native, and this time I can see the pale pink color of their clothes. I step closer, trying to peer through the leaves. They really chose a good hiding spot.

"Hello?" I call out softly. I hear a small gasp and stop moving, knowing what they must be scared of. "It's okay. I don't want to hurt you."

Those big brown eyes appear again, this time distrusting. Appraising me silently, their eyes move up and down my body. Eventually, they look past me as if they're looking for something, or some_one._

"Where is Lord Tulio?" The voice that comes from the plant is soft and sounds as though it belongs to a young girl. When I lean closer to hear her better I hear the leaves tremble as she flinches, and I quickly retreat back to my former position.

"Lord Tulio is gone. You can come out now," I gently reassure her.

A pause. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I try to make my voice as warm and inviting as possible, and it must work. There's another rustle as she pushes aside the leaves and emerges. She's a young girl a bit on the small side. She's wearing a standard pink dress that she looks entirely too uncomfortable in. Her hair is disheveled and there's dirt smudged on her clothing. A small golden necklace lays daintily on her collarbone, and she fiddles with it nervously as she notices me staring. She smoothes down her dress, but when she sees she's going to get nowhere with it she moves onto her hair, trying to disentangle a small twig that's caught in a knot.

"What's your name?" I ask, deciding to start simple.

"Itzaxoco-Kisa," she replies steadily, sticking out her tongue in concentration as the stem becomes even more entwined in her dark locks.

"…Kisa it is. Why were you hiding?"

Her fingers pause in their work and she blinks slowly, heat rising to her cheeks. "I—I was…um…" she rocks back and forth on her feet and stares over my head, "playing?" I didn't think it was possible, but I have finally met a worse liar than me. I hold back a chuckle as she furiously begins tugging at the stick, her lips twitching as every other tug ended in the softest snap of individual hairs.

"In a bush?"

"It's called hide-and-seek, duh." Her eyes widen considerably as she goes over her words in her head. Her cheeks grow even redder and her mouth opens and closes like a fish. "I'm sorry! I mean, um, _my lord._" This time I don't try to disguise my laugh, and I raise my hands to pull out the little nuisance in her hair.

"It's fine. Call me Miguel, please." She turns to face me as the twig comes loose, her eyes suddenly wide and serious.

"Oh, no," she says, once again whispering, "I can't do that." She tries running her fingers through her hair to brush out the tangles, but at the first painful knot she winces and gives up.

I want to ask why she thinks that way, but I have a feeling the answer is obvious. Instead, I try and change my approach. Children are trickier to talk to than adults at times.

"Are you scared of Lord Tulio?" Straight and fast. Beating around the bush never got anyone anywhere. Kisa's eyes grow even wider and she looks down, kicking a rock with her toe. I see her gulp and I know I've hit a mark.

"N—No," she stammers, "but also yes." She looks up at me, her eyes beginning to redden around the edges. "I don't know anyone who's not." I glance at Tulio's bush out of the corner of my eye, wondering if he can hear us. He probably can, we aren't too far away. I can't imagine how he must be taking this.

"There's nothing to be scared of. He helped save the sacrifice this morning." I remind her.

"Only because you wanted him to. That's what Mama said." Her eyes shift suddenly shift nervously and she takes a step back. "She also said Lord Tulio is dangerous. She said I shouldn't go looking for him but I couldn't help it." She takes another step back, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip. "I had to know."

"Know?" I ask. "Know what?"

"Itzaxoco-Kisa!" Kisa gasps and grabs my hand, hiding behind my legs.

"It's Mama!" she cries, "Hide me!"

A robust woman in a light green dress comes hustling down a small set of stairs. She has a purple shawl spread over her shoulders and she's huffing when she reaches us as if the few steps were tiring for her. She doubles over and takes in air in large gulps. "Itzaxoco, what were you thinking? You know we can't leave." When she stands upright and sees me her eyes widen and she looks between Kisa and me quickly, like she's making assumptions about why I have her right next to me. "No," she whispers.

The woman's eyes are red and puffy, and her face is speckled with pale splotches. She wipes at her eyes, trying to wipe away tears she hadn't bothered with before. She blinks quickly and smoothes her dress in a similar way that Kisa had earlier. "My Lord," she says, her voice fighting not to sound strained. "I'd like to take my daughter home if it pleases you. I apologize for her disobedience, it won't happen again." She sends a cold glare at Kisa, and I feel the small girl shrink even further behind me.

"Why don't you both stay out here?" Whatever blood that still remains in the woman's face drains and her mouth drops as if she's lost for words. "In fact," I add before she can protest, "why doesn't everyone come out?"

If Kisa and her mother were nearby, that probably meant others were nearby as well. I wonder how many people here are as brave as the little girl and her mama. As I lift my hands to cup around my mouth, I can only hope that my hunch isn't wrong and I don't look like a major idiot per usual.

"Hey!" I shout, "I know you're all watching. I'm much more handsome up close, I promise." I glance at Kisa and her mother once again and add, "We come in peace."

A smile spreads across Kisa's face even as a frown descends on her mother's. I can tell she wants to say _no_, but she's too scared of my wrath to object. She takes a look around and forces a small smile. "Of course, my Lord."

It takes a little while, but bit by bit the people come out. They appear from behind trees and buildings, creeping out as slowly as if they think we might bite. For all I know, that's exactly what they expect. There are more than I had been expecting—there seem to be close to forty. I smile and glance back at Tulio's bush, knowing he must be dying to come out.

_Not yet._

"Alright." The small buzz of chatter that had arisen stops as soon as my voice begins. All of their eyes focus on me and I swallow. "We're not here to hurt you. At least not on purpose." I add the last part before thinking about it and mentally wince as I think about what it might have done to Tulio. "Anyways, you don't have to hide from us."

"We're not _hiding_," Kisa calls from the sideline despite the cuff over the ears she receives from her mother. "You told us we weren't allowed outside. Are we allowed to leave now?" Her eyes are wide; hopeful. The people all look at me with the same expression pasted on their faces. I shrug.

"Yeah, sure." I move over to the bush and reach inside, searching for Tulio's arm. "But, you have to be nice to…" When I don't find him I turn my head towards the bush and spread the leaves apart in search of him. The bush was much larger than I had originally thought.

It's much darker inside the plant and I can only see the outline of his features. He had crawled as far back as the fern allows, and his eyes are as wide as his face is pale. I can hear his slightly erratic breathing and suddenly know that Tulio has heard every word that's been uttered.

When he sees me reaching out for him, he shrinks back and shakes his head wildly. "Don't make me go out there," he whimpers.

"Come on," I say quietly, "you have to face them eventually."

I hold out my hand for Tulio to take it, and he simply stares at it like it's a foreign object. I understand him being afraid, but if we're going to pull off this con then he's going to have to come to terms with his mistake eventually. At this point, getting the gold is the least of my worries, but _surviving_ certainly isn't. I know that if Tulio or I mess this up, it will be the end for both of us. And let's face it; I'm far too handsome to die young.

My heart clenches when Tulio begins shaking. His eyes are as wide as they can open, and he's staring at my hand like it's the bane of his existence. I wiggle my fingers encouragingly and give him a smile, hoping to let him know I'm on his side. Because let's face it, Tulio could kill a thousand men and I'd still stick by his side.

Eventually, with a long heaving breath and a gulp, he takes my hand and I pull him out of the bush, stopping to wipe off any excess dirt and leaves.

"…you have to be nice to Lord Tulio." I finally finish, pulling Tulio into the middle of the square.

It's difficult to say exactly who screamed first. News must spread very quickly here, for only in moments it seems that just about everyone is running into each other and tripping over themselves just to get out of there. I feel Tulio tense next to me, and when I look at him, he's staring at a singular point on the ground, his gray eyes seeing far beyond the square tiles.

"Wait!" I raise a hand in an attempt to stop them, but it does no good. I look to the left to see Kisa staring at Tulio with wide confused eyes as she's dragged off by her mother, whose face is once again wet with tears.

When the dust settles, Tulio clears his throat.

"Well, I faced them," he states quietly. "Now what?"

This time he doesn't pull away when I place my hand on his shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for that. And I'm going to have to apologize again when I say I won't be updating again in November. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo and just getting this chapter done was pretty difficult. But I will get this story done, I promise! Expect updates to start up again in December.**

**I'd also like to thank Ann and Pete for their lovely reviews. Thanks so much!**

~**Tulio**~

_ She comes out of nowhere. I swear I've never seen her before, but as soon as I catch sight of her face a dull ache throbs in my chest. Blue eyes, slender face, long dark hair. So familiar, yet I just can't seem to place it. She's laughing; happy. For a moment, it makes me happy as well._

_ But then I blink, and the moment's gone. Disappears like a shadow, as if it never existed. I'm left with lifeless blue eyes that are cold and glassy, showing none of the joy I seen with her just moments ago. Her long dark hair lay beneath her in a giant mass of tight curls, but it has lost its shine. The putrid scent of blood reaches my nostrils and I recoil back in shock, never having smelled anything so scary before. _

_ But the scent of blood wasn't the worst part. For underlying the coppery fragrance is the sickly sweet aroma of freshly squeezed oranges._

…

"Tulio?"

The sound of Miguel's voice startles me from my reverie. His warm emerald eyes are a stark contrast to the woman's glassy blue ones, and for a moment I allow myself to memorize how alive they appear to be. The image burned into my mind gives me the creeps, and I'd like nothing more than to forget what I just saw. Thankfully, the longer I stare at Miguel, the more I realize I can't seem to recall what she had even looked like.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" I ask, trying to drag my attention to what he's actually saying. I don't especially pride myself on how easily my attention is slipping, but he's been repeating the same stuff for a while now, and I'm beginning to grow sick of his concern—however good his intentions may be. Miguel's lips bow down into a small frown, the edges of his eyebrows curving upwards in something that resembles a mixture of sympathy and frustration.

"I _said_ you shouldn't worry about what happened back there." I dip a finger into the lake and try to chase the little fish, only half-listening again. "They'll get over it soon." He pauses for a few moments before adding, "I think."

For the past half-hour Miguel has been talking about how I shouldn't let it bother me. That it wasn't my fault. That everyone has already forgotten about that fact that I _saved_ someone as well. At first, his voice had felt calm and reassuring, a low murmur that I could find myself relaxing into. And it had worked. I found myself slowly but surely calming down and, loathe I was to admit it, seeing a brighter side of the accident. But after a while, Miguel had apparently began to see the darker side, and his voice grew intrusive and repetitive, getting more and more tense as his own irritation grew, and now I wish he would just let it go. It's not like anything he preaches is going to make me feel any better anymore.

After the incident on the outskirts of the city, the two of us had wandered silently. Eventually, we found ourselves in the square and wordlessly decided to settle on the ground next to the lake.

I shift my gaze to the river that we sailed into El Dorado on, its liquid still glimmering like it's sprinkled with golden dust. Just beneath the surface are enormous fish that range in colors through the entire rainbow. It makes me glad that there are smaller ones near the top that I can disturb.

I pull my finger back out of the water and observe the ripples, fascinated by the way they fan out until they finally become tranquil once more. Eventually, when the water stills, I feel an unpleasant jolt of shock pulse through my heart when I notice a man I don't know standing above me. Just as my muscles tense to whirl around, realization dawns on me, and I feel a breath of relief rush out of my body. I stare into the depths of the deep blue water, trying to stare past my reflection, but unable to see anything else. I never even thought about what I looked like before, but now I'm not sure if I want to know. Nevertheless, my vision eventually blurs until I find myself staring at my image for the first time.

My hair is a large mass of curly dark tangles, and I once again find myself wishing I could pull it back. My face is rugged and tan, and just below my lips is a small black goatee. I had never stopped and thought about my own eye color before either. I guess blue isn't bad, although it's not nearly as nice as green.

It feels strange to watch someone moving exactly the way I do, and yet unable to recognize that it's me.

"…aaand you're gone again. Tulio? Hell_ooooo_?" Miguel waves a hand in front of my face and I swat at it, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

"Can you _please_ do me a favor and shut up?" I snap, the words coming out more hostile than I had intended. I instantly regret it the moment Miguel grows silent. I'm searching for words to apologize when he shrugs and turns away.

"Sorry. I'm just trying to help." He doesn't sound upset. That might be a good sign.

"I know." There's a tense silence as Miguel and I sit there, both of us staring at the ground but neither of us seeing it.

The idea forms itself slowly, almost as if it came from nowhere. But as soon as I realize it's there, I can't get it out of my mind. The silence becomes more and more deafening before I finally can't take it anymore. "Tell me a story." I suddenly request.

Miguel glances up at me, his eyebrows arched in a most peculiar fashion. "A story?" he asks it as though the very idea is strange. He scratches at his beard as though the very notion of telling me a tale had never occurred to him before. "What kind of story?"

"One about me."

"You would say that," Miguel teases me with a smile on his face. It's been a while since I've seen his grin and the sight somehow helps me to relax. "Alright, how about the story of how we got here?"

I swiftly nod, ecstatic that he's finally opening up a bit about my past. I want to know how I got here. I feel the question burning inside me relentlessly, never once fading to the back of my mind. The thought of how I lost my memories seems so interesting.

"Okay, so, the tale begins with an incredibly handsome god and his slightly less handsome friend. That's me and you by the way."

"Yeah, I gathered."

"Anyways, there we were in Xibalba being all godly and doing heavenly stuff—"

"Like what?"

"Are you gonna let me tell this story or not?"

"Fine, go on."

Miguel clears his throat, sending me a pointed glance. "_Anyways, _so we were doing heavenly stuff. You know, making it rain, laughing at the humans being stupid—real normal casual god stuff. Then—"

"So we were good friends? In Xibalba?"

Miguel huffs a dry laugh, the ends up his lips curving upward in a small smile. "I guess you could say that." Miguel takes a moment to continue, as if he suddenly has to search much harder for words. "Anyways, the main god—you know the big ol' number one—said we had to go on this journey to El Dorado, and he gave us a map so we could find our way. He said that it was our destiny."

"Did he say why we were chosen?" The question is paramount somehow. I find that over the past day I've asked many questions like that. Why are we here? Why did I lose my memories? Why do I keep having seemingly irrelevant flashes?

Why, why, why?

"Just that it was really important and that we couldn't let anything get in our way," Miguel answers before adding, "So we were preparing for this trip and one of the other gods heard that we were chosen and got insanely jealous because, I mean, let's face it, we're awesome, so he followed us here. His name is Cortés, by the way. So Cortés followed us to Earth because he thought he deserved it more than us, and while we were on our super awesome quest, he was making his evil plan because he's evil." Miguel pauses to take a breath. I take this as an opportunity to interrupt again.

"That name doesn't sound familiar. Do I know him?"

"I'm _getting_ there." Miguel responds with an exaggerated sigh, sending me what I'm sure he meant to be an annoyed expression but really just shows that he's fighting to not laugh. "So we find the stone that marks the entrance to the city – you remember – and suddenly he attacks us. Then he shoved you into the stone and you totally passed out and I thought you were dead or something but then I stuck up for you and fought him off all by myself with my awesome god powers and he vanished into the jungle. I bet he's just biding his time and waiting to strike again. So that's why you lost your memories." He appears to be pretty proud of himself, his green eyes lidded in pride. The pieces are beginning to click together one by one, but I'm still not exactly sure what I'm trying to solve.

"But I'm a god." I point out slowly, perhaps putting the pieces together a bit too well.

"Yeah, so?" Miguel asks, his face suddenly slightly concerned.

"_So, _how does a god lose his memories? That sounds awfully mortalish to me."

Miguel appears to deflate, if only slightly. He coughs into a fist and shrugs. "I wouldn't question it if I were you. Once you do it all falls apart. The main man sent us here for a reason. I bet this is all part of his plan. You'll get your memories back." Miguel takes a moment before responding, his voice slightly weaker than before. "And when you do…" he trails off, and I can't miss the fact that a shudder ran through his body at the thought. "Well, I just hope your humor comes back with them."

"I don't know what would be so funny." I mutter under my breath. "This whole mission has been a disaster so far."

"Hey," he chides gently, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Don't say that."

I almost flinch when I feel Miguel's warm palm against my bare shoulder, but somehow I instinctively lean into his touch instead. Something about the way his hand molds around my skin—as if it's happened a thousand times before—is much more comforting than his words could ever be.

My heart begins hammering in my chest when Miguel begins forming small circles on my shoulder with his thumb, though whether he realizes he's doing it or not is difficult to ascertain. Almost without thinking, I slide myself closer to the blond and lean my head on his shoulder, searching for just a small moment of comfort. I don't know whether or not Miguel can give me that, but at this point I don't care.

Miguel freezes immediately, his thumb halting its ministrations. I want to gulp, want to pull away, but at this point I feel like even moving a muscle is out of the question. We sit there for who knows how long, neither of us moving or even breathing, but both of us thinking at a mile a minute.

Eventually, he wraps his arm around both my shoulders and pulls me closer, binding me in an altogether awkward but well-meant embrace. And the thing is—it feels so _familiar. _Out of all the waves of déjà-vu I've had, this is by far the most potent. This small sense of intimacy haunts me and sends a small shiver down my spine. It tickles at the back of my brain but for the life of me, no matter how hard I concentrate, I just can't seem to place it.

When have I _felt _like this before?

Miguel peers down at my face, his eyes suddenly bigger than I ever remember them being. If I could move I'd wipe away the sweat beading on the back of my neck, but my limbs are paralyzed like I'm caught in the hypnotic gaze of a green-eyed serpent.

Something about the way he stares at me, with his large warm eyes filled with so much recognition and trust, breaks my heart. No matter how hard I may try, and how far I might have come, I'm still nowhere close to being the real thing—at least not to Miguel.

There's something about that thought that forces upon me the desire of reassurance. For someone to look me in the eye and tell me everything is going to be all right. I may be wrong, but Miguel seems like the perfect candidate for the task.

"They hate me." I mutter, my tone full of both remorse and vengeance. I feel Miguel's chin slant downwards as he peeks at my face, and although I can't see his expression, I can guess it's some form of disapproval.

"No, they don't," Miguel declares immediately. There's a moment's pause before he adds, "Well, maybe a little. But I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

"Yes, that's _such_ a comfort at this point. Miguel, I _murdered_ someone. I murdered someone with my bare hands. And you know what? I don't even know if I'm allowed to care."

Miguel for once has no comforting words to say. No silver linings to point out, no bright sides to display. He sits next to me, his arms both tender and cold. He clears his throat softly, but still doesn't respond.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," I murmur. I feel Miguel shift slightly, as if he's growing uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone loves you. You're revered by all—the perfect god. I'm the one they're all terrified of because they think I'm here to destroy them. And to top it all off…" I trail off, suddenly not sure that I should utter the words that have been haunting me for hours. "…they might be right."

"_What?_" Miguel exclaims, his voice suddenly firm. "No, the Tulio _I_ know would ne—"

"The Tulio _you_ know," I interrupt, my voice bitter, "isn't _here_, is he?"

Miguel flinches as if I struck him, his embrace no longer feeling nearly as warm. After a small moment of silence he withdraws his arms and lays them in his lap, all his features drawing in on himself. A small flicker of regret pulses in my stomach, but I quickly stifle it.

"I'm sure the Tulio you knew was deserving of the mission. He was the one it was assigned to after all. I'm just a…a…a—_God_, I don't even know what I am."

"Tulio—" Miguel begins before cutting himself off. I hug my arms around my legs and lean my forehead against my knees.

"I'm a god. I'm a god. I'm a god," I repeat like a mantra, knowing that when you say something enough, you eventually grow to believe it yourself.

"The Tulio I know is still in there. I know he is. _You_ are the Tulio I know. Just—" he cuts himself off but then realizes that he's already dug himself into a hole. "You're just a bit different that's all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I…um…you—hey!" Miguel suddenly jumps to his feet and I lift my head to find out what has captured his attention.

There, standing just at the base of the steps is the mortal woman, Chel. Her head is shifting as if she's searching for something, and Miguel spins towards me and raises his hands as if to stop me from moving.

"Stay. Right there. That thing you're doing? Keep doing that." He glances over his shoulder and turns back towards me. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" I protest, not wanting to be left alone. Miguel takes a deep breath and his eyebrows rise as if the answer is difficult for his to muster.

"I just gotta tell her something, alright?" I shrug weakly, watching with wide eyes as he smiles and trots down to meet Chel. She appears pleased to meet him the moment he reaches her, and he takes her arm, glancing over his shoulder at me before facing her again. He leads her further away and I roll my eyes. It's not like I would hear them either way.

Suddenly, over by the potted bushes, there's a rustling. Startled, I whirl around to face the noise and cock my head to the side when everything appears to be in order. I look back to where Miguel and Chel are, but the sound yanks my attention back. My eyes appraise each plant, and when the same noise swishes again, this time I catch sight of the movement and concentrate on the bush it had come from.

As I watch the fern wriggle, I fight back the grin that tries to force its way across my face. Instead, I push myself to my feet and approach the plant, careful to take an indirect path. I notice the leaves start to shake the moment I near it, as whatever is inside the bush notices what I'm doing.

"Who's there?" I ask, my voice coming out louder than I had intended.

There's no response, only the sound of soft breathing as whoever is hidden in the shadows attempts to keep quiet.

"I said, who's there?" I reiterate, this time raising my voice on purpose. I hear the small sound of someone sucking in breath and eventually the faintest hiss as they release it again.

"Nobody," a tiny voice responds. It's a girl, her voice high-pitched and young. The word is spoken barely above a whisper, as if she has to force herself to speak.

"Nobody, huh?" I reply, squatting near the bush. I squint my eyes and try to peer through the leaves but the inside of the plant is too dark to make anything out. Whoever this is, they really chose a good hiding spot.

"That's right, my lord." I raise an eyebrow at the response, honestly having expected a different response. Perhaps something more along the lines of _'No, that's a lie I have a name, I apologize.' _Nonetheless, I feel a smile tugging at my lips as amusement spreads like warm honey through my chest.

"Well then, _Nobody_, if you're not there, who am I talking to?" I challenge her. There's a moment's pause as she tries to overcome her bearings. I purse my lips to keep from laughing. I'm not sure what I had expected when I saw someone here, but I don't think humor was in my top five. The faceless voice heaves a dramatic sigh, her breath rattling the buds on the bush.

"My _name_ isn't Nobody, silly."

"Alright, so what _is_ your name?" She becomes silent. I can still hear her breathing heavily. If I didn't know any better I'd guess that she's terrified, although by now I should know that people being scared around me isn't something to be shocked about. I don't want to admit it, but I have a fairly strong notion about what she's so frightened of.

"Itzaxoco-Kisa," she replies at last, almost shyly. The name sounds slightly familiar, but by this point I've learned to ignore the small teases of memory. They don't normally amount to anything.

"…You have a nickname?"

"Lord Miguel called me 'Kisa.'" She mumbles the name as though she doesn't recognize it and is tasting it out on her tongue as she speaks it.

"That'll work. Alright, Kisa, do you know who you're talking to?" I'm not sure what convinces me to do it, but I lower my voice to a threatening octave and lean closer to the bush. I ask the question with unspoken warnings all over my voice. I think a small twisted part of me wants to scare this girl into thinking I'm dangerous, just to observe how far she'll go to unearth what she must be down here to discover.

"Yeah. You're Lord Tulio. The one who killed m—the scary one." Her response throws me for a loop.

When I speak again my voice has risen back to its normal pitch, and if I'm not mistaken even adopted a certain whiny nature to it. "I'm not scary." My lower lips pushes out from under the top one, and I try desperately to hide my pout before it's too late. Unfortunately, no such thing occurs. I hear her giggle, the sound like a small brass bell.

"Okay, so maybe you're not _that _scary." She pauses, and I can practically hear the gears operating in her head. "So why does everyone keep running from you then?"

"Probably the same reason you're hiding from me." She giggles again, though this time it doesn't sound nearly as sweet.

"I don't think so, my lord." Something about the way she utters the words causes me to rear back in shock. Her cute young voice grows dark and I'm suddenly that much more curious to properly meet the girl inside the bush.

I glance over my shoulder and see that Miguel is still speaking with Chel, although they don't seem quite as friendly as they had been the last time I saw them. I turn back towards the bush and lean closer until my face is brushing the leaves.

"What do you mean?" I demand.

"Well, everyone else is scared of you. I'm not scared. Not really. I'm mostly just curious." What does she mean by that? Is it possible that some here don't understand why they're scared, just that everyone else is? Is there a chance of redemption? Perhaps not nearly as many people know about what I've done as I originally thought.

"You're not the only one." I murmur softly. This little girl has no idea what it truly means to search for answers—at least not yet. Once she loses her memory, then we'll talk.

"Are you confused, too?"

Understatement of the freaking century. "What are you confused about?" Instead of answering her question I choose to push the conversation back towards her.

"Do you promise not to be mad?" Her voice is tentative; soft, and I can barely stand to have someone sound _that_ sad. Then again, I don't think it's a good idea to promise something—even something this small—when there's always a chance I may overreact. There's a large possibility that whatever secret she has to tell is the final straw.

"I can try." I can give her that much.

There's a soft rustling as she crawls out of her hiding spot. She loses her balance and tumbles out of the bush, waving her arms frantically in an effort to catch her balance. She disturbs several leaves which float to the ground slowly, landing on the dirt tiles. Kisa peers up at me from the ground and smiles weakly.

"It was itchy in there," she admits as she pushes herself to her feet.

"So?" I inquire, not interested in her small childish matters. The girl appears hurt for only a moment before a look of determination crosses her face. She furrows her brow and screws up her lips as if she's trying to find just the right words.

"Well, I was, um, I was wondering…why did you kill Ah Puch?"

Of course.

"Ah who?" I ask, my throat shriveling up as I speak. I suddenly find myself unable to meet this child's gaze. When Kisa speaks again, her voice is filled with an unexpected acid and I just barely keep myself from jumping from her tone.

"Ah-Kinchil Puch. My _brother_. You _killed him_ this morning." Her hands are clenched into little fists and her lips are set in a thin line. She had asked me not to be angry at her, but now it seems as though she's the only one angry here.

"Your…brother?" For the first time, I'm coming to terms with the fact that he had a name, a family, a _life_. He had a life that I stripped away for no reason. This little girl wants to find out that her brother died for some noble cause, not that he should still be alive. Not that his death was pure accident. I wince as I try to swallow against my parched throat, trying to wipe my clammy hands against my robes without her noticing. I feel my stomach tighten as her voice grows more and more icy.

"Yes. Why did you kill him? Why did he have to go away? Mama said that the gods never sacrifice without a reason. I want to know why my brother is gone."

"My Lord!"

I whirl around at the exclamation to see the High Priest rushing in my direction. Next to me, I feel Kisa disappear into the vegetation again as Tzekal-Kan closes in on me. I almost regret the loss of the little girl, but at the same time I've never been so thankful to be relieved of someone's company.

"Uh, yeah?" The last time I recall seeing him was during the sacrifice, and somehow the thought of speaking with him after that incident shoots a thread of anxiety through my veins. However, he doesn't appear to hold any resentment. In fact, he has a wide grin on his face and his small dark eyes are gleaming.

"If I might have an audience?" he requests. Movement catches my eyes over his shoulder and my gaze flickers upwards as I detect Miguel and Chel rushing towards us, expressions of panic spreading across their faces. Miguel's green eyes are wide and Chel is shaking her head wildly but I merely blink uncertainly and look back towards Tzekal-Kan.

"Uh, sure. Go for it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Miguel stop dead in his tracks and run his hands through his hair in defeat. When I consider his reaction, and I notice how Tzekal-Kan's beady eyes glimmer like a cobra about to strike, I can't help but wonder if I just made some sort of really horrible mistake.

"Excellent," he whispers, his voice very much like that of a serpent's hiss.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! I feel like it's been forever since I've posted a chapter on here. Luckily for you NaNo is over so I can get back to my true calling. Although at this point, it's starting to get more and more difficult to write this story, simply because ideas are getting more and more sparse. So updates will unfortunately not resume like they were before with one a week, but I will still definitely push through to the end so you don't have to worry._

_Also, I got another beta for this story: For The Kingdom. JMarieAllenPoe is still helping me, so the beta credit goes to both of them. (Nothing against JMarieAllenPoe; she's the best. I've just wanted two from the start and I finally found another.) For The Kingdom is great, I highly recommend them both._

_One more thing, this chapter overlaps chapter eight, so it starts about halfway through the last one rather than picking up where it left off._

_I'm so glad to be back. Please enjoy!_

_-Breathless_

* * *

**~Miguel~**

I have a feeling that when I first met Tulio, he thought I was undeniably and veritably insane. Perhaps I could tell by the expression on his face – more likely it was the fact he straight up called me crazy. Whatever the cause, I know for a fact that he never really seemed to care. He probably still thinks I'm off my rocker, but if I had to take a guess I'd say he finds it appealing in some way.

Oh, sorry, _found._

Anyway, after he had snapped from slumber so quickly that I suspected he hadn't been sleeping at all, we quickly got into an argument. He had seen the instrument in my hand, and, loathe as I was to admit it, I was caught red-handed. When he accused me of stealing, I related my sad story of how I was but a poor child with many young siblings on the brink of starvation. I told him that mandolin could have been my only chance to save my small defenseless kin. It wasn't much, but perhaps some people would take pity on the humble orphan boy playing music on the street, and perhaps I could manage to scrounge up some coins for my meager little family.

Somehow, and to this day I still don't know how, he managed to call me out on my little tale. He called it a lie; I called it an exaggeration.

Faith is a strange idea. The implication that you would believe in something or trust someone – without any proof that they aren't screwing you over – is a pretty thoughtless notion. In fact, it's downright stupid. This, I suppose, is why it drives Tulio so crazy that I do it all the time. The thing he just doesn't seem to understand is that he offhandedly proved to me that good people can be found anywhere. I guarantee if we had swapped positions that night, he would believe in humanity a bit more too.

Because when we heard his father's feet thumping against the floor, and he saw my skin go as pale as his white walls, I guess he somehow knew that my story wasn't complete fantasy after all. He told me to hide behind his desk and that he would take care of the rest. At first, I refused; certain that this boy only wanted to keep me in one spot so he could turn me in. But when I heard the footsteps right outside the door, and I saw the glint in this stranger's blue eyes, I decided to take my first true leap of faith.

I held my breath when his father burst into the room, his voice delirious from sleep. He demanded to know what was going on and why he heard voices. Tulio told him that a thief had broken into the house and had taken the mandolin. I remember how my throat had dried and my stomach had churned. It took everything in me not to throw up right then and there. I was positive that that was the moment my life was to end — hidden under a stranger's desk with a stolen lute at the hands of a sleepy fisherman.

When his father asked where the bandit had gone, I would have sworn my blood had stopped flowing had my heart not been beating so loudly I was sure they could all hear it.

Gone.

That's what he told his father. He said I had been out the window and down the street before he could react, and that it was so dark he hadn't gotten a good look at my face. His father crossed the room and stuck his head out the window, perhaps thinking that for some reason the thief would be sitting right below the shutters. After several minutes of grumbling about missing instruments and lost sleep, his father left the room, letting the door click shut behind him.

I could hardly believe it, and when I slipped out from under the desk and saw his face he looked as though he felt the same way.

Now, as I lay eyes on Chel, I realize that I have to take yet another leap. By myself, we'll undoubtedly crash and burn. Perhaps, with help from this woman, we'll survive.

I watch her as she descends the stairs, her strides slow and meticulous, as if each pace is a challenge. I jump to my feet, intent to catch her as soon as she reaches the bottom step. I know now that there are some truths that need to come out, and if I can't tell Tulio then I have to tell her.

"Where are you going?" Tulio asks, his voice almost sounding strained. I take a deep breath, knowing that this is one conversation he cannot be a part of.

"I just gotta tell her something, alright?" Tulio shrugs, and I thank God he doesn't start arguing. Whirling around, I begin jogging towards Chel. I peer over my shoulder a couple times to see that Tulio is staying in his proper place for once.

Chel hops off the last step just as I reach the temple. She lifts her head when I arrive and immediately dons an expression of pure guilt. She must have heard by now. God, the entire _city _probably knows. I lay my fingers on her shoulder, gently guiding her around a corner. I know that Tulio can't possibly hear us from this distance, but some deep sense of paranoia tells me that someone else still might.

For a moment neither one of us utter a sound. After a few tense moments I decide to break the silence. "Now do you get why you were supposed to watch him?"

"Look, can we just skip the blaming part and get on with it?" Chel crosses her arms, choosing to stare at the ground rather than at me. She rocks back and forth on her feet and I take comfort in the fact that she at least feels remorse for her part in the tragedy.

"Okay, fine," I agree, even though a part of me screams not to. "So I need to tell you something. I probably should have told you this right away, but I didn't. So let's just focus on the fact that I am now." Chel raises an eyebrow and doesn't reply, obviously waiting for me to continue. "So, uh, Tulio isn't really himself. He actually thinks he's a god so we need to just keep rolling with that so he doesn't blow our cover." The longer I speak, the faster the words tumble from my lips until I'm certain that all she heard is a jumbled mess.

"Wait, he _actually _thinks he's a god?" Chel's face is a mask of scorn, and I suddenly feel a strong urge to defend Tulio's sanity. However, I know that once the truth comes out, I'm going to seem like an idiot for not having told her such vital information in the first place.

"It's possible that he might have amnesia," I reply, finally realizing just how appallingly serious it sounds out loud.

"He _might_?" Again with the scorn. It must have something to do with dark hair. Maybe it's infused in their genetic code.

"…Okay he definitely does. So just keep playing along, alright?" Chel still seems confused, her eyes screwed up as if she's thinking.

"Why are you lying to him?" she asks, shaking her head, "it just doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does," I reply instantly. "See, this way he won't have to pretend like he's a god since he already thinks he is one. It gives the con a more believable element. And then once this is all said and done with I'll explain everything to him. Trust me; I know what I'm doing." Chel is still shaking her head and I cross my arms, slightly frustrated that she hasn't already wholeheartedly agreed with my plan. It's not like I come up with these all the time or anything.

"You do realize that if he figures out the truth he's going to freak out in the middle of the operation," she points out slowly, as if she's explaining something complicated to a child. Chel lifts and finger and waves it around in the air.

"Well, you see—"

"And that if you had told him the truth right off the bat, he'd be more prepared to still act like a god if his memories return while you're here."

"Uh…"

"And if you tell him the truth now, not only will he not trust you, but he'll probably have a giant fit because – guess what – he killed someone for _literally _no reason."

"Okay," I interrupt, holding up my hands. "I get it, smarty-pants. So what's _your _master plan?" Chel hesitates, and I'm about to start laughing in triumph when she suddenly begins speaking again.

"Well, for starters, we should keep him away from the High Priest at all costs. He must have heard about Tulio killing someone by now. I don't think I have to explain why that's a bad thing." I think back to this morning's ceremony and recall the gleam in his eye and the sheer eagerness he'd had about killing that poor man. A shiver runs down my spine and I shake my head. "Other than that you should probably just hide out," she continues. "Take him up to the temple and keep him occupied. I'll stay down here and tell anyone who asks where you're at."

I hate to admit it, but that's actually not a half bad plan – even if the idea of spending a lengthy amount of time with Tulio is beginning to feel like a chore. I hate that I feel that way, but the mere suggestion of spending time alone with him is almost equivalent to being in the company of a corpse.

"Hold on," I murmur, not yet ready to say I agree to her plan out loud. "I'm gonna go check on him."

I peer around the edge of the temple, my gaze fixating right away on the spot where I _swear_ he had been only moments ago. My breath catches in my throat and I instantly scour the area in an effort to find him.

I finally locate him squatting near the potted plants. It appears as if he's chatting with a bush, and for a moment I have to purse my lips to keep from laughing. I know he's confused, but I feel like this is crossing some sort of line.

I certainly did not expect Kisa to come tumbling out of the vegetation. He speaks with her for a moment until movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention.

"Uh, Chel?" I say over my shoulder.

"What?" she comes over to stand by my side and I point a shaky finger down the street. I hear Chel suck in a breath as her eyes land upon their intended mark.

Tzekal-Kan.

"Uh-oh," she whispers.

Without responding, I sprint towards Tulio. Chel hurries after me, her steps smaller but still frantic. I see Kisa shoot off into the bushes, not even bothering to spare a farewell to her companion.

Despite our efforts, Tzekal-Kan reaches him before us. Tulio glances at us and sends me a queer look, but, for some reason, he chooses to ignore us. I can't decide if it's our expressions of panic or Chel hysterically shaking her head. I hear the smack of Chel hitting her palm against her forehead. She stops dead in her tracks, but I continue. My years of conning have taught me to recognize a bad situation and, even though my entire life is currently a bad situation, I can still pick out the little ones without a problem. Luckily, I don't need Tulio to improvise.

I have a sneaking suspicion that when Tulio gets his memories back, he's not going to want to talk about all the times it was him who screwed things up.

I hear Tzekal-Kan's voice rise in volume as I draw closer, and his words stop me dead in my tracks.

"In honor of your sacrifice, I have organized a mighty ball game to be held in precisely twenty minutes. The losers shall be sent to a temple where they will be prepared for tomorrow morning's ceremony. But, of course, since you will not be losing you have nothing to be concerned about. I apologize for the short notice, but…" he trailed off with a dark chuckle. "These are rather unique circumstances."

I don't think he quite understands just how _unique_ this circumstance really is.

"I dunno," Tulio begins slowly, his brow screwing up as if he's in pain. "It's not that big a deal…"

"Not a big deal?" Tzekal-Kan places a hand on his chest like he's personally offended. "My Lord, with all due respect, is this not the entire purpose of your visit?" Tulio's eyes widen and his mouth falls open just as I close the distance between them in several bounds. I throw my arms amicably around my friend's shoulder and force a smile.

"Lord Tulio, there you are! Oh wow, it's so easy to get separated in this giant city. Well, now that I've found you we're gonna go, bye." Tulio sends me a confused expression.

"But you told me to—"

"Well, would you look at the sun? It's pretty late I'm tired, aren't you tired? We should go to bed, come on." I close my fingers around Tulio's wrist and tug him away to where Chel is still standing, her lips tight with apprehension. Tulio stumbles after me, his first few steps unstable as he attempts to find his balance. He follows me without question, but I don't miss the glimpse he casts over his shoulder.

"My Lord!" Tzekal-Kan protests, his small brown eyes lighting up in alarm. "I have not yet instructed you of the formalities." I tug a little harder on Tulio's wrist, desperate to get away from him before something else happens that we'll regret.

"We're fine, thanks," I call, increasing my step size dramatically. Tzekal-Kan doesn't reply, but I'm willing to bet he's not exactly pleased.

I meet Chel halfway, her slanted gaze flickering between me and Tulio as if trying to ascertain what had happened simply by our expressions. She must not have found her answer, because she furrows her eyebrows and cocks her head to the side.

"What happened?" the native asks, sending a cautious peek in Tulio's direction. I open my mouth to reply, but Tulio beats me to it, wrenching his wrist from my grip.

"I was finally about to get some real answers, that's what." I'm not sure how to explain the dark flash in his heated glare. It's not quite anger – thankfully – but not exactly sadness either. All I can tell is that it's all Lord Tulio's own, and certainly has nothing to do with the stranger who lied to his father.

"Why don't we head up to the temple?" I suggest, my tongue suddenly feeling much heavier. "It's been a long day."

No one mentions that the sun has just reached its peak and is glaring at us directly overhead. We all know that this day has lasted much longer than it should have.

* * *

The journey up the steps and into our temple is silent. It almost seems as though none of us are even breathing. When I pull back the curtain and let Chel and Tulio pass, I almost find it too difficult to follow them inside.

Tulio immediately goes to the back where we had been sleeping and lowers himself onto the bed, his figure sinking into the mattress slowly. Chel and I exchange a glance, neither one of us sure of what to do. I know that it's me who has to try and cheer him up, although I'm not positive about whether I'd make it better or worse at this point.

In the end, I decide to leave him be, realizing that he probably just wants to be by himself for a while. There will be plenty of time for talk in the next three days.

Three days.

It's such a short amount of time, and yet so much has already happened in less than twenty-four hours already that I dread to find out what will happen in the next seventy-two. I suddenly notice Chel staring at Tulio, a vague sense of interest in her expression. Gritting my teeth, I approach her and tap her shoulder. When she turns to face me, I jerk my head towards the opposite side of the temple. The woman gets a knowing glimmer in her eyes and nods, following behind me.

"You might want to keep your voice down." She murmurs, "He heard you last time."

"Right," I whisper, my voice hardly audible. "So Tzekal-Kan was—"

"Not that quiet," Chel interjects, rolling her eyes. I purse my lips and inspect Tulio over her shoulder. He has curled up on the bed in the fetal position and has his forehead pressed up against his knees. A twinge of guilt sparks in my chest as Chel's words from earlier flow through my head.

I did this to him.

I let out a thin sigh and turn my attention back to the woman in front of me. I clear my throat. "Alright, well Tzekal-Kan mentioned something about a ball game. It's gonna start in a few minutes." I trail off and stare at her expectantly. After a few moments of silence Chel raises an eyebrow as if she doesn't know what I'm waiting for. "What do we do?"

Rather than answering my question, Chel brings a finger to her lips, chewing on a nail. "Oh, well, this is definitely not good."

"Yeah, I kind of figured," I reply, impatience beginning to seep into my voice. Chel seems oddly distracted, her eyes flitting around the room and looking everywhere but at me.

"We're in trouble," she finally answers, looping her arms across her chest and suddenly choosing to stare me straight in the face.

I hold back a groan of exasperation. "I was kind of hoping you'd have more for me than that." This was nothing like I'd been hoping. To be honest, I'd thought that I'd found a temporary replacement for my partner; someone to tell me what to do so I wouldn't have to be the leader anymore. Chel had seemed to be the perfect candidate, considering she knew the culture and had literally just pointed out all the holes in my seemingly perfect plan. It's a bit late to be realizing this now, but I'm starting to suspect that she's merely my only option, not my best. "Why don't you start by explaining this game to me?"

"Well," Chel responds immediately. "It's a game where you knock a ball through a hoop to get points."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

Chel grins as if she knows something I don't, but it doesn't appear hold much humor behind it. "The hoop is very high and nearly impossible for some natives to get, let alone outsiders. Not to mention you'll likely be playing professionals. Wouldn't want the game to end too quickly, would we?"

"I'm starting to sense the bad," I say slowly. Chel nods.

"And if you lose you'll be discovered as mortals and will either be sacrificed in the morning or killed immediately."

"…Okay, bad."

"_Very_ bad," she agrees.

"So, what do we do?" Any earlier enthusiasm she had dissipates, and Chel swallows, running her fingers through her long tresses.

"I don't know," she admits softly, paying much more attention to her hair than to me. This time I don't hold back my groan and bury my head in my hands. Well, we made it about an entire day. In retrospect, it's actually fairly impressive, considering I made it this far without any help from Tulio _whatsoever_. In fact, if it weren't for him we wouldn't be in this mess at all, so technically I did just fine.

Frustration builds as the situation crashes upon me. I've spent so long relying on Tulio to lead us and tell us what to do, that I never stopped for even a second to consider the possibility of him not being there. I'd never thought about there being a situation where there was me and him but not _us._ Since our meeting I had never had to take another leap of faith, because I knew I could always rely on him. He never let me down. He snapped and ridiculed, oh yes, but never left. Never gave me a single reason to regret anything.

Now remorse pulses through my body so strongly I'm afraid I might be sick. Tulio was always there for me, but when he needed me I let him down.

I can hardly stand to look at him now, all bunched up like he's a child who just got stolen from his mother. I'm not sure what's going through his head right now, but I can take a wild guess and say it's more chaotic than my wild thoughts.

I got him into this mess, and I need to get him out.

"Come on, we've got to think of something. We have less than twenty minutes!" Chel doesn't reply, just stares down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. I'm beginning to worry that there really is no hope when she speaks up again.

"You should tell him," Chel murmurs, following my line of vision. He's no longer in the fetal position, but he's laying stomach-down, face pressed into a pillow. I feel a grimace coming on and I shake my head.

"I thought you said not to," I remind her. Chel shrugs.

"If you're going to die tonight, would you rather have him learn the truth from you or them?" And with those words my resolve crumbles. He's going to hear it today whether we like it or not, and I know that if anyone should have to witness his pain it should be the one who inflicted it upon him, not people who are trying to kill him.

"Well – I…fine." I push myself to my feet and run a hand through my hair. "Wish me luck," I mutter.

The mere journey across the temple room to where he is sitting is much more difficult than I thought it would be. It can't be more than ten feet, but it almost feels as though the distance gets longer every time I put on foot in front of the other. I don't even know what I going to say, but I figure that I'll just do what I do best. Improvise.

He doesn't hear my approach, and the closer I get the quieter I try and be. I wonder just how much he's already figured out. Tulio has always been perceptive, but he'd have to get past his big ego before he realizes that he's not a god.

Then again, does this man even have an ego?

For a moment, I simply stand above him and stare, taking in his disheveled appearance. His hair is such a tangled mess that I'm not sure he'll ever be able to fix it. It rests around his shoulders in a disarray of dark locks, spilling over his shoulders like a knotted waterfall. Most of his flimsy costume is missing, including his headdress and most of his jewelry. Only one band stubbornly remains, its surface reflecting the edge of Tulio's bristled jaw. He's looks so foreign; so unfamiliar in these clothes that it makes my skin crawl. I turn away from him for a moment, surveying the room in search of something that I had in all honestly forgotten about.

My eyes land on our old clothes sitting neatly on a nearby table. Someone must have come by while we were gone and folded them for us. When I pick out Tulio's outfit from the pile, I can practically feel my heart squeezing in agony. I do my best to ignore the feeling, doing an about-face and heading back towards Tulio's idle form. This time he hears me and he shifts his face to peer up at me from the pillow. I hold the objects out to him and he examines the articles I'm clinging to, sitting up slowly, almost as if he suspects a trick.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice no more than a croak.

"You should put these on," I say. "They'll fit you better." My hands are still hanging in midair, fingers curled around our Spanish clothing. Tulio's gaze flickers back and forth between the garments and me, his eyes still clouded in confusion.

"But…I thought…"

"_Here_." I drop his clothes into his lap and turn to fetch my own, not ready to have a quarrel over something that I want to win. I'm tired of living a fantasy and somehow telling him the truth seems easier if I can imagine I'm talking to the real Tulio. After all, it was difficult for me to hide secrets from him back in Spain. There's just something about El Dorado that appears to suck that quality out of me. Maybe if I can pretend we're just back home, I can do what I should have done in the first place.

I take off the obnoxious purple collar and pull the red shirt over my head, slipping my arms through the sleeves. It feels strange somehow – though it feels familiar at the same time – to be wearing this again. Overall, I feel a general sense of comfort, having taken one step closer to who I am.

I turn back around as I'm tightening my belt and my lips curve into a small frown. Tulio only blinks as my eyes narrow, his hands clutching his blue top tightly.

"What's wrong?"

Tulio shrugs, his attention focused steadily on the objects in his hands. "I don't really know. They just…" he trails off, seeming uncertain about whatever problem he's facing.

"What?" I urge him to continue, thinking that perhaps it's something serious that I can help him with.

"I don't really think it's my style," he whines, curling his nose as he pinches his vest between two fingers and lifts it to his face.

"_Put them on,_" I growl.

"My Lords?" My heart jumps in alarm as Tzekal-Kan suddenly interjects, stepping into the temple not even bothering to wait for permission. When I whirl around I see his head close to the ground and his hand in the air. "I apologize for any interruptions, but the game is ready to commence."

"Already?" In the distance I can hear the low murmuring of a large crowd, and the sound sets off a spark of worry in my stomach. How had it already been twenty minutes? That seems terribly unfair somehow. My stomach tightens and I fight hard not to let a squeal of terror leak out. I glance at Tulio and see that he has tossed aside his Spanish clothing and is now standing beside me, a grimace ingrained in his features.

"Let's get this over with," Tulio mutters.

If only he knew how final this will be.


	9. Chapter 9

**~Tulio~**

_There's a delicate balance between confusion and insanity – a fragile harmony that I'm learning should never be disturbed. However, as soon as Miguel slips the blood-red article over his head, the weight tips in another direction; one I can't quite see. As if he has slithered out of his old skin and into a new one, Miguel becomes a stranger to me once again. Is he who he claims to be? Lord Miguel: God of Xibalba and a life-time companion?_

_Or someone else entirely?_

…

He's hiding something.

I glare at the back of Miguel's head as the four of us stroll down a worn path. I've never been surer of anything in my short existence than I am of this fact. The way he dodges questions, the way he looks permanently nervous – as if he's afraid of divulging a dark secret – and the way he purposefully excludes me in things are certainly not going unnoticed. It's possible that I'm just being paranoid, but at the same time, it's likely that this entire time I haven't been wary enough.

And who knows? Maybe if I had been, things would have turned out better.

The entire time we've been in El Dorado, I've only seen the trees from a distance. Their large limbs and far-away leaves are a comforting backdrop to the calm atmosphere. But now, Tzekel-Kan leads us through a grove of trees that I've never noticed before. They tower over us on both sides, casting long shadows across a dusty trail. Sunlight shines on the ground in dappled spots, striking our shoulders with every other step. With the way my hands refuse to stop picking at each other, and my legs are busy deciding whether or not they want to hold me up, I have no doubt that, if the environment reflected our emotions, we'd be making our way through the burning ashes of a raging volcano.

I lift my gaze from attempting to still my hands and see a pair of green irises staring back at me. Miguel flinches as soon as he catches my gaze, quickly pivoting his head back to the front and crossing his arms in front of him. He doesn't turn around again, but I can see his face shifting every so often. I mimic his actions and cross my arms, sighing softly when my palms choose to listen to me once again.

I must admit, seeing Miguel in such a bright new color is slightly disorienting, although I won't lie and say it doesn't feel… familiar somehow. The crimson color pokes at the back of my mind and brings with it the pungent scent of fish and the dry taste of salt in the back of my throat. I crinkle my nose and close my eyes in an attempt to block out the sensation, but the red is only replaced with a deep endless blue that almost seems to mock.

"Everything was prepared in a rush, so I apologize if anything is amiss," Tzekel-Kan calls from in front of us. It seems to shock both me and Miguel from our thoughts, as the blond jerks like the High Priest had leaped from the trees and started screaming bloody murder. After a moment the blond clears his throat.

"I'm sure it will be…" Miguel trails off, and I'm beginning to wonder whether he's going to continue when he speaks up again, "…fine."

If Tzekel-Kan notices the blond's hesitation, he doesn't show it, only continues to lead us to the arena. I can't see it yet, but even from this distance I can hear the faint roar of the crowd. Uneasiness stirs in my stomach and my hands begin shaking again.

"Uh…" I trail off, clenching my palms into fists. Asking Tzekel-Kan to send the spectators away would only serve to prove how weak I am, and some hidden sense deep inside whispers _pretend. _I let my arm fall to my side and take a deep breath.

Suddenly a chill runs down my spine and I pause, craning my head over my shoulder. Between two thick trees, there's a small blur of movement that rattles the leaves on the undergrowth. My eyes glue immediately to that spot before Chel gives an impatient huff and nudges me forward with a firm shove to my back.

Eventually we break the line of trees directly in front of the stadium where the match is to be held. I squint at the sudden flood of sunlight as I step out from under the protection of the canopies. When I'm able to open my eyelids with a couple strained blinks, I only barely manage to stifle a groan.

Masses of people hover in crowds above us, cheering like their lives depend on it. As soon as we come into view every head instantly swivels in our direction. Miguel raises a confident hand to wave at them, but it's all I can do to not take off in another direction. Sweat beads along the back of my neck and I grit my teeth. I try to make eye contact with a young woman, but the moment she sees me, she flinches and immediately averts her gaze. Pursing my lips, I search through the throngs of citizens; however, every time someone notices me they wince or they gasp, and each one of them turns away.

This must be what it feels like to be worshipped.

I quickly feel the urge to slink off into the trees and crawl back to the temple on my hands and knees. But my feet suddenly decide to commit mutiny as well, rooting themselves to the spot and refusing to let me move.

"Hey, snap out of it." I break my gaze in front of me just in time to see Miguel's palm lightly slap the sides of my face. I ward him off with a growl and follow his laughing figure, trying not to let him know how grateful I am for the distraction.

Tzekel-Kan leads the three of us down to the middle of the field, offhandedly directing us to our proper positions. Across the way from us is a group of men with varying degrees of smirks and glares. I can't help the small shred of uneasiness that decides to settle in my stomach, and I swallow in an attempt to calm myself.

_What have they got against you?_

Bulging muscles and a strong notion of what's going on come to mind before I decide to stop thinking about it.

Over on the sideline is a young boy sitting on a bench, staring down at his hands. Next to him is the horse Altivo, who rubs his nose on the boy's arm and nickers softly. When the heinous armadillo jumps up on the child's lap he stops frowning. Miguel follows my gaze, and when he sees them a smile stretches across his face. "So _that's_ where you snuck off to," he murmurs softly.

I take a glance at our surroundings. On either side of us are two white walls. One of them has golden hoop attached to the top, so small that I almost miss it. On the side opposite where we entered is a large pulpit that overlooks the entire stadium and holds two ornate thrones. Chief Tannabok sits in one of them, his expression thoroughly vexed.

"Wow. You weren't kidding, were you?" Miguel's voice is soft as he cranes his neck back, his hand acting as a visor to block the sun. His gaze is focused on the small hoop.

Chel stands at his side and shrugs. "It's not like I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, yeah." The blond disregards her comment with a wave in the air, his eyes still trained on the hoop. "So, uh, you got any advice?"

Chel thinks for a moment. "The hip and upper arms are best for long shots, hands are mostly off-limits, the head hurts, and only use your feet if you're _really_ desperate," she finally says, indicating each body part with a sweep of her hand. Miguel nods slowly, taking it all in.

"So…use my feet the entire time?"

"You're hopeless," she mutters. Suddenly she purses her lips, her voice turning urgent. "See this shadow?" She points underneath the platform where the sun casts a square shadow of the hulking figure. "When it reaches _that_ line…" she directs her finger to the opposite side of the field, "…the game is over. You only have a few hours to win." Miguel opens his mouth in protest, but Tzekel-Kan interrupts, swaggering in behind Miguel.

"I would once again like to congratulate you. And you need not worry about retrieving the ball, my Lords. That will be the gamekeeper's job." Tzekel-Kan points towards the sideline and the scrawny boy waves at us shyly, his tousled hair dangling in his face. With a large smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the High Priest adds, "Have fun."

He dismisses himself quietly, turning to walk away, but stops dead in his tracks when he notices Chel. Tzekel-Kan stares at her silently for a moment, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if he is only just seeing her for the first time. When Miguel notices this exchange he quickly rushes to her side and places a hand on her shoulder, plastering a giant grin on his face.

"She's with us," he clarifies. Chel's brown gaze flickers back and forth between the High Priest and Miguel until Tzekel-Kan finally shakes his head softly. He bows once more and dismisses himself, slinking off into the direction of a tall set of steps that leads to the top of the pulpit.

Chel stares at Miguel for a moment, an eyebrow rising as if she suspects a trick. Finally, she shakes her head slightly and gives him a smile. "Good luck," she whispers. She sends me a small nod before she follows Tzekel-Kan's lead and sidles off towards the sideline to join the gamekeeper.

When Tzekel-Kan reaches his destination, he stands there for a moment, gaze swooping over the entire area, before he abruptly throws his arms into the air.

"_Attention_!" Instantly the entire arena is enveloped in silence – as if they had been expecting his call. Tzekel-Kan waits for a moment before continuing.

"For a thousand years, the gods have graced El Dorado with wealth and tranquility. And now, they walk amongst us! We are united here to celebrate their presence in our hallowed city and to give thanks to the mercy they have shown to all who live today." Tzekel-Kan barely finishes his speech before the citizens begin roaring with acclamation. Behind him, Tannabok curls his fingers into the arms of his throne, his face staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. With a smile that makes me want to grimace, Tzekel-Kan seats himself in his chair next to the Chief.

Miguel takes a deep breath before turning to look at me over her shoulder, coming to stand at my side. Both of us turn to face the opposing team in all their brutish glory.

"It was great knowing you."

I turn to look at him. He has a goofy grin on his face, but his green irises are shades darker than I ever remember. All around us the crowd is raucous, citizens moving about and cheering at the top of their lungs, but as soon as my eyes meet his it almost seems to disappear. Just for a moment it's only the two of us, his eyes boring into mine as if he's desperately trying to transfer something to me via eye contact. I feel my mouth gape open like a fish, his gaze both soft and urgent at the same time. Time almost seems to slow, and my mind is slowly beginning to come to the conclusion that he's probably hoping for a response, but I can't think of a single word to say.

"_Play ball!_" The High Priest's shout resonates throughout the stadium, breaking the spell. Miguel moves past me, lining up across from the other players. A question nags at the back of my mind as I join him, begging to be answered.

What does he mean by _was_?

The gamekeeper sneaks up past us, a brown ball resting on his grasp. The boy's eyes flit towards us nervously, and his back is hunched over, but at least he's able to meet my gaze. He raises the sphere over the center of the field but doesn't drop it. There's a moment of indecision as his face contorts into several different expressions, his fingers dancing over the surface of the object in his hands. Without warning he slams it onto the floor and sprints off towards the end-zone.

The sound of a horn rings through the stadium and almost instantly the ground begins to rumble. I suddenly understand what the boy had been so scared of when I see our opponents barreling towards us, leaving a giant cloud of sand in their wake. I watch the ball suspiciously as it jumps around, jostled by the vibrations of the athlete's. I lift my gaze just in time to see an adversary's foot smash into the sphere and watch helplessly as it travels straight for my face.

I instinctually wince and pinch my eyes shut, throwing my hands into me. I'm waiting for the ball to crash into my face, but instead feel two hands shove themselves into my shoulder and send me flying. I land on the ground with a grunt, a billow of dust blowing into the air.

I wearily blink open my eyes to see Miguel standing above me, an apologetic grin on his face.

"Sorry," he whispers. "I thought you were going to die."

The stadium is much quieter than it had been moments ago, the loud roar having subsided into a dull buzz. I risk a glance at Tzekel-Kan and wince, immediately wishing I hadn't when I see how dark his eyes have turned. When Miguel offers me his hand and murmurs, "They certainly don't have much to be desperate about," I stare at his outstretched palm for a moment before my anger from earlier rapidly comes bubbling up through my chest. This is the man who is hiding my identity from me, the man who has been doing everything he can to show me who I am without actually telling me who I am.

I've had enough.

"I can take care of myself," I growl, batting aside his hand and pushing myself to my feet. I brush the dirt off my arms and clothes and return to my previous position, refusing to look back at him. I can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of my head, but I try to ignore him, training my eyes on one of my enemies instead.

The gamekeeper tosses a new ball into the ring and, this time, I catch hold of it. I fling it into the air and send it into gameplay with flick of my elbow.

Game on.

Almost immediately one of the natives catches the sphere with his upper arm, sending it sailing through its golden target. A small strangled gasp escaped Miguel's throat, but he quickly cuts it off and gives me a weak smile.

"We're fine. We're definitely al—" the blond is cut off when the ball slams into his chest and knocks the wind from his chest; he takes a step back to catch his breath and takes in a wheezy gulp of oxygen, "—right." I feel my eyes roll to the sky as Miguel gasps for air. The ball had bounced to his feet, and he bends over to pick it up, still coughing lightly. He turns towards the hoop and I see his tongue stick out in concentration as he raises his arms above his head.

Suddenly there's a bark of surprise and Miguel flinches, turning to face where the noise came from. The gamekeeper jumps to his feet and his fingers curl mid-air in his attempt to stop us.

"Um, you, uh, can't use your hands, my Lord. Remember?"

"Right, yes, of _course _I remember." Miguel laughs in a too-loud voice and drops the ball as if it's poisonous, wiping his hands on his pants. He looks at me, his eyes wide. "I think he made that up just now," he whispers.

"Chel said the same thing," I point out drily. He opens his mouth to object before faltering and pursing his lips. "You really are hopeless," I growl. I scoop up the ball and toss it into the air, lifting my leg to try and hit it into the hoop. It doesn't even make it halfway, and a native swiftly dives in and knocks it with his arm, allowing his teammate to score a goal.

Miguel lifts an eyebrow. "Yeah, _I'm_ hopeless."

I ignore the comment and trail after one of the natives in control of the ball. He sends it back and forth between him and a teammate and they travel down the field quickly. Gritting my teeth, I stand my ground. As they near, I make a wild lunge for the sphere, somehow managing to knock it off its path. I try not to wince as the contact stings my arm, trying only to copy what our opponents did, sending it towards Miguel who has a perfect opening. His eyes grow wide, and he covers his chest with an arm and bats at the ball, knocking it straight towards the ground with a terrified squeal. A native instantly swoops in and catches it with his foot, sending it careening towards an ally who uses his hip to score yet another goal.

When Miguel sees my glare, he blinks apologetically. _Sorry_, he mouths.

One athlete hurls the ball into the air to one of his teammates, and I leap towards it without thinking. My fingers barely graze the edge of it before I land on my stomach with a painful grunt. The golden band secured around my ankle slips of with a soft clank. One of my opponents pauses for a split second, almost as if he's going to help me up. He has three red feathers sticking out from his hair and his dark brown eyes stare down at me with something that could almost be construed as pity. Finally, Red Feathers shakes his head softly and turns away from me, running off to help his teammate. Miguel approaches me at a quick pace, but I push myself to my feet before he can reach me.

I shoulder off Miguel's concerned questions, looking up just in time to see the ball sail through the hoop yet again. With a frustrated grunt I kick aside the anklet. "This is unbelievable," I growl. Miguel nods in agreement, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"I know, right? These people are so rude." I look at him silently, waiting for him to realize that it's not really the players I have a problem with. He meets my gaze and shakes his head. "So rude."

The shadow is sneaking its way just across the halfway point when the fatigue really starts to kick in. My muscles ache and my lungs burn, but with every gulp of sweet oxygen I take in, my dry throat weeps a tale of woe. However, Miguel only seems to become more and more determined, his face a mask of perseverance.

"Come on!" he shouts every time I stop for a breather. "You have to keep playing. We've got to _win_!"

He grabs my wrist and wrenches me off the ground when I fall, and lightly slaps my cheeks when I lean over from fatigue. I don't see how he does it, this is so _exhausting._ The premise of this game is so simple. There's a hoop and a ball. Get the ball in the hoop more than the other guys and you win. Easy.

So why is this so difficult?

It's this infernal outfit. The robes are downright impossible to run around in, and I'll never get the taste of this _ridiculous_ hair out of my mouth, what with the way it keeps whipping into my face.

Despite Miguel's protests, I take a moment – however short – to rest. Chest heaving, I look out towards the sideline, more than a little fearful about what expression Chel will be donning when she sees me. However, she's not even looking at us. Instead, she's leaning over next to the gamekeeper, whispering something into his ear. The boy looks confused at first, but after a moment his face brightens and he nods eagerly. Chel smiles and finally glances up as soon as the kid jumps to his feet and takes off. When she sees me sitting down, her features quickly fall and she throws her hands into the air. Miguel nudges my leg with his foot impatiently in an attempt to get me to stand. Relenting with a sigh, I push myself to my feet, my limbs protesting profusely.

_I wish I could do this._

Chel quickly surveys the position of the gamekeeper. The boy is busy gathering the multitude of stray balls he'd been neglecting into his arms. With a mischievous grin, she tosses in a new one, sending us a away, one of the natives goes straight for it. He pounds it with his hip, sending it through the air directly towards the hoop. All I can do is stare helplessly as the ball barrels straight towards the golden band once again.

Suddenly, it stops midair and plummets straight to the ground. Every player stops dead in their tracks, bodies frozen in shock. One of them finally rushes the sphere, and it seems to give the others some form of reassurance. However, just as his feet are about to slam into it, the ball jumps out of the way and lands next to his leg. The man leaps to a standing position and scampers away from the possessed object. Several natives act as though they're going to approach it, but seem to think better of it and simply take a step back.

Slowly, the ball begins rolling around in a condensed circle, sending up clouds of dust as it picks up speed. The circumference gets larger and larger until players are forced to hop out of the way of its advance. The crowd has been loud the entire time, but it's nothing compared to their cries of alarm as every eye trains on the maniacal thing speeding through the stadium. Without warning, it chooses a new path and rolls in a straight line towards its new target.

Me.

I try to jump out of the way, but my knees lock and my feet stubbornly remain rooted in place. I swallow, telling myself that I can't be hurt. I'm a god.

Not that that's stopped me in the past.

There's a collective gasp from several audience members the instant the ball reaches me. My hands clench into fists as it creeps up my leg and up along my spine, dancing across the back of my shoulder. Suddenly it catapults off into the sky straight towards the circle without even a guide. It easily sails through the air and glides through the golden hoop above us.

For a moment, it feels like the very air has been sucked from the world. Every single eye is trained on the hoop, and no one is breathing.

Well, at least I know _I'm_ not.

Miguel starts cheering first, breaking the silence. He begins pummeling his fists into the air and squealing like a small child. The rest of the crowd eventually joins in just as enthusiastically. I stare at the ball in disbelief as it rolls along the ground on its own accord and comes cruising back towards us. Miguel claps me on the back; I send him a nervous smile, only one thought running through my mind.

_Did that ball have _legs_?_

Miguel runs past me and straight up to the ball, his steps becoming slower the closer he gets. He nudges the still object with a toe, and I swear I hear him _giggle_ when the cursed thing jumps up his body just like it did mine and leap off towards the goal. The natives peer at each other, their smug grins _finally_ wiped off their faces. This fact is what, in the end, convinces me to rejoin my companion.

"Tulio!" Miguel drop-kicks the ball in my direction, sending it sailing towards me in a large arc. I take a few steps back and glance at the hoop, bunching up my arm in preparation. More than half our opponents don't seem at all inclined to chase after us, instead choosing to stare at each other in an expression that says, clear as day: _this was not in the job description._

However, Red Feathers approaches me just as the ball is rounding its peak. I hold up a hand in a pathetic attempt to stop his advance. He suddenly curses and slips, landing on his back with a giant _oomph!_ Bewildered, I glance at Miguel to see him staring at my hand with a knitted brow and deeply concerned eyes. Red Feathers jumps to his feet and grabs a small golden object on the ground, chucking it in a random direction.

Abruptly remembering the object plummeting towards my face, I jerk my head upwards to see it about a foot from me. I quickly wind my arm back and have little time to aim before whacking it square in the center and sending it soaring towards its target.

For the first time this entire game, I watch the ball I hit go straight through its intended destination. A satisfying bubble of relief swells in my chest and threatens to burst when Miguel hits the ball with his hip and we once against score.

I catch a glimpse of the sideline and see Chel and Altivo dancing, her hair gently gliding around her shoulder and her smile lighting up her face. My eyes briefly scan the area for the armadillo, but it appears as though he had gotten bored and fled the scene.

The pace of the shadow is even faster than it was before, flying over the field like the underside of a bird's wing. A glimpse of the scoreboard is enough to show me that, regardless of our sudden advantage, we're still behind by a small margin.

Four points. That's all we need to win.

One of our opponents suddenly makes a dive for the ball, landing with a grunt on his stomach. The ball is squished between his giant hands, but he still looks like he's having a difficult time hanging onto it. He struggles to his feet and with a wary side glance he prepares to throw it over his head. However, as soon as he tries to throw it, it goes in the opposite direction, running a circle around his feet and causing him to fall with a strangled cry.

"How come _he_ didn't get in trouble?" Miguel exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. I point off to the corner of the field where the gamekeeper is turned away, trying to add another sphere to the massive pile already in his hands. I hear Miguel chuckle softly and crack his fingers. "That's it."

Miguel saunters up to the ball and grasps it between his two hands real casually. He casts one more peek in the gamekeeper's direction before reaching his arms over his head and chucking the ball towards its target in one clean swoop.

No one protests, no one gasps in horror, no one roars in outrage. In fact, no one seems to have batted an eyelash. Miguel and I exchange a glance and he shrugs, moving to retrieve the ball. I fight back a laugh as Miguel picks up the ball and tosses it into the air, slamming into it with his hip and shouting, "¡_Olé_!" Will there be no end to the strange ways of this blond?

I meet the ball as it drops down on the opposite side of the hoop, knocking it straight back with a swift kick. I falter when I hear the smallest squeak. My brow furrows as the ball meets the golden circle again, my suspicions convicting themselves as I see a tiny pair of legs scramble to get through the hoop.

Both sides are tied now. My chest tightens when I see just how close the shadow is to the line. The ball dips past its target and hits the ground with a soft bounce, rolling away until it rolls straight into a bush and disappears.

"New ball!" Miguel and I both look at Chel and see her wave at us nervously as the young boy picks up a ball and launches it in, a triumphant grin on his face as he rushes off to the bush to retrieve the old ball.

The ball lands on the edge of the field, slowly bouncing to the center before it stops almost directly in the center. When no one goes for the ball I take several steps towards it. Just because it's a different ball didn't change a thing.

Does it?

When Miguel sees me approaching the ball he gasps and sprints for it, plunging to the ground to grab it before me. He stares up at me from the floor and gives me a sheepish grin.

"I, uh, don't want you to get all the glory."

I roll my eyes and help him to his feet, nodding my head towards the goal. The blond looks back and forth between me and the hoop several times and chuckles nervously. "Right," he says, staring at the object in his hands. "Glory."

Apparently still fearing the unknown qualities of this new ball, no one tries to stop Miguel as he makes his way towards the hoop, his movements so slow it almost seems as though he's stalling. When he reaches the hoop he purses his lips, squinting his eyes to judge the distance. He gently lifts a knee and taps the ball, then shakes his head and balances the object in one hand and does the same with his elbow. A glimpse of the shadow and its impeding threat is enough to make me shout, "Just throw it already!"

Miguel jumps, and the ball slips from his grasp. In a desperate attempt to keep it from touching the ground, he punts it with the tip of his foot. The ball goes straight upward, catching the hoop on the lip and resting directly in the center of the circle.

For a moment it almost seems as though it's going to go through its target. Miguel's green eyes widen as the ball rests in the curve of the hoop, wobbling back and forth slowly as if it's trying to decide whether or not it wants to go through. One more point. This is all we need, and every single person standing in this stadium is highly aware of that fact.

The world seems to slow down as the ball slowly tips in the wrong direction. Miguel's face falls with the ball as it drops out the way it came and goes rolling back to his feet. I see him glance at the shadow behind me and he flinches, his eyes screwing up like he's being stabbed. Red Feathers runs straight up the ball at Miguel's feet and scoops it up, barking a triumphant laugh as he whirls around, inadvertently knocking the blond aside. Miguel stumbles backwards, not even bothering to move out of the taller man's way on his own accord. The blond lifts his gaze and meets mine, his jade irises filled with so many different things I'm not sure where to start.

_I'm so sorry, _he mouths.

I blink and for a brief moment the world disappears.

…

_I open my eyes blearily, the world coming into focus slowly like rippling water. After several blinks I can make out a figure directly in front of my face: a boy, a _kid. _His light blond hair is cropped close to his scalp and his lips are twisted down into a worried grimace. When he widens his narrowed eyes, I see a sight that almost stops my heart._

_ Green eyes._

_ "You're not dying on me, right?" The boy's voice is high-pitched and a bit nasally, but it still strikes a chord somewhere. He offers his hand to help me stand, and I take it immediately, marveling in how warm his palm is against my frigid skin. __The air is crisp and warm and flows against my skin like warm water. __I shake my head and he sighs in relief. "Oh good. Now I don't feel bad." _

"_You should," I mutter, casting my gaze around my surroundings. The two of us are in a small alleyway, surrounded on all sides by whitewashed walls. On my right is an open shutter, but it's too dark to see what's inside. _

_ I hear a few giggles, and when I glance over at him he just bursts out laughing. He grips his stomach and leans next to the dark blue shutter. _

_ "What's so funny?" I demand, tapping my foot against the cobblestone floor. _

_ "Y—Your face. Your eyes got all big and your mouth gaped open and you just…" he trails off in another fit of laughter as he tries to mimic the expression, the whites of his eyes peering out and his lips falling open. He raises his hands in front of his face in mock panic before his face falls back to its normal look. "I've been holding that in for ages. You looked like a demented fish."_

_ "Yeah, well your face isn't much better," I retort with a laugh. I rub a small spot on my forehead and wince as I press against the tender area. "That really hurt."_

_ "Should have moved out of the way." His laughter has subsided to a few stray chuckles and he looks up at me, shaking his head in amusement. _

_ Suddenly his face falls and he grimaces. His gaze is focused on the space above my eyes and I reach up to touch the bruised area again, this time softer than before. He pushes himself off the wall and approaches me, his lips curved down into a frown. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his tone finally serious._

_ "What, this?" I reply with a shrug. "It's just a flesh wound." The boy jams his finger right on the injury and laughs when I cry out in shock._

_ "Yeah," he says, "you're fine."_

…

"_Gah_!"

I fall to the ground as the ball thumps against the side of my face. Dust clouds around my face and I cough as the particles are sucked down my throat. A slicing pain rips up the side of my head and I wince, the smallest of groans escaping my chest. I reach my hand up to press at the pain on my temple but before I can touch it I feel two hands crawling all over my chest and arms and a voice repeating over and over, "Are you alright? Can you get up? You're not hurt, are you?"

I look over and see Miguel's face, his emerald eyes wide with concern. When I don't respond he furrows his eyebrows.

"You're not dying on me, are you?" he asks with a nervous laugh.

And in that moment, with the smallest of clicks, the pieces finally fit together.

_So, we were good friends? In Xibalba?_

_I guess you could say that._

One by one, I pull the facts together. That vision had been the most potent of them all bar none, and for once I find my questions being answered. Miguel hadn't been lying to me after all when he told me all those stories.

_It has smaller buildings, and most of them are white._

That must have been Xibalba. If I'd have stuck around much longer, I've no doubt have encountered one of those slaves or fire-stick men he had told me about. Have I truly just been being paranoid? If he wasn't lying about that, then it's possible that he had always told me the truth. Then it's possible that he's on my side.

_Most everyone looks out for themselves…but I knew one or two that had each other's backs._

"Tulio, say something, you're freaking me out." Miguel offers me his hand. I stare at it, my mouth gaping open like a demented fish. "Seriously," he continues, "we're getting weird looks."

I glance upwards at a few of the native's and see the concern and the confusion clouding their faces, even from this distance. I take a deep breath and nod slowly.

"Yeah. _Yeah_, I'm fine. Just keep playing." Miguel grabs my hand and helps me up, something in his expression hinting that he doesn't quite believe me. "I'm _fine_, really. It's just a flesh wound."

Miguel huffs a laugh, his lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiles. "You say that every time."

Sending him a debonair grin, I turn to rush off into the fray. Suddenly I feel a tug on my robes stopping my progress. I turn towards Miguel and see all the color drained from his face, almost as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"You…you say that _every_ time." The words slip off his tongue in a bare whisper, his grip on my clothing so tight his knuckles turn white.

"We don't have time for this," I hiss, tugging on my clothing. Miguel blinks and shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath. He lets the fabric slip from his fingers.

"Right. You're right. Of course. Right."

Both teams are tied at seven points. With the time left, if they make a goal it will be game over. The magic in the ball seems to have worn off, but I try to ignore the aching feeling that tells me we're doomed. Now that the natives see that I'm fine, they immediately resume their offense. Red Feathers grabs the ball and make a move to toss it to a teammate. Just as it leaves his fingers I make a grab for it. My fingers just barely graze the edge and I exhale a sound of frustration as I watch the ball sail over me towards his teammate.

Suddenly I feel an intense pressure on my shoulders and I gasp as a heavy weight shoves me into the ground. I see a flash of red before my face rubs against the dirt.

I wonder just how many times I'm going to fall down on this field today.

When I lift my head my eyes widen at what I see. There's Miguel in all his glory, hands firmly clasped around the edge of the hoop, his body hanging limply from the golden band. The ball bounces across the ground in front of the goal and it only takes me a second to realize what he's done.

He slam-dunked the final point.

"¡_Olé_!" I shout.

"Wait, that _worked_?" Miguel's legs kick wildly. "_Yes_, brilliant! Perfect. Now," he looks down at me, "could someone help me down?"

The sound of a horn blowing drowns out my reply and the stadium is suddenly awash with the cheers of the entire city. Chel runs up to meet us, her fist waving in the air.

"You did it," she cries. "You guys _actually _did it!"

"_We _did it," Miguel corrects her, grunting as he tries to get a better grip on the hoop. "Did you ever doubt us?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Chel replies, hooking her hand over her eyes as she stares up at Miguel.

A pause. "Not anymore, no."

Tannabok follows Tzekel-Kan down the steps and they both approach us, one with a smirk and the other with a nervous smile.

"My Lords, congratulations on your victory," Tzekel-Kan bows deeply when he reaches us, and the Chief tensely nods behind him. "Now," the High Priest continues, "if you will excuse me, I must escort those you defeated to the sacrificial chamber." Instantly, all the men I just called my enemies fall to their knees, their hands clasping together in a silent plea for mercy. Tzekel-Kan notices this and rolls his eyes. "I do hate when they beg," he mutters under his breath.

"Wait, _what_?" Miguel's legs kick again and his body starts flailing. "_Some_body get me down from here," he commands.

"What do you mean'_sacrificial_'?" I inquire, ignoring Miguel's demand. The High Priest scoffs lightly, his expression amused.

"If you will recall, the losers of this game must be sacrificed. It is…" Tzekel-Kan trails off, his hands waving around in the air as if he's searching for the best word, "…tradition." He finally finishes with a satisfied nod.

Wow, he really is persistent.

"_Hello_?"

I take a moment of deliberation, trying to summon up that same feeling of justice that has thus far lead most of my actions. I saved Chel that way, and the old man from this morning, and…

And Ah-Kinchil Puch.

"_Tulio_! My arms are getting tired."

I rub my eyes with the palm of my hand and take a deep breath. The last time I tried to save someone, everything went to Hell. Something tells me I should just quit while I'm ahead. "Alright," I concede. "Just do it."

Tzekel-Kan's puts his hands together and smiles so big that all his teeth show. It makes me want to wince when I'm reminded of man-eating sharks.

"Isn't there anyone out there that cares about me anymore?"

I sigh, turning towards Miguel. His body hangs lifelessly, his head drooping at an awkward angle. Chel is staring straight up at him, not trying very hard to hide her amusement. I move until I'm standing directly under him and reach my arms up as high as I can, barely managing to wrap my hands around his ankles. "Okay, let go."

"What, really? Okay." Miguel releases his grip on the hoop and I let go of his ankles, taking a step back to avoid his body. The air rushes from his body when he slams into the ground and he gasps a deep breath, eyes bulging from his head. He rolls onto his back and rests a hand on his stomach, sending me a dark glare.

"That," he says bitterly, "was a dirty trick."

"What are you complaining about?" I ask innocently. "I got you down, didn't I?" Chel finally bursts out laughing, leaning against Altivo who whinnies in a similar fashion. It's not long before Miguel joins them.

Suddenly remembering the issue at hand, I turn back towards Tzekel-Kan but he's already at the far side of the arena herding the losers through the trail we entered the arena from. As I watch them journey towards a distant temple, I can only wonder if we can truly call this a victory.


	10. Chapter 10

**~Miguel~**

_I_'ve always loved the stars.

Here, in El Dorado, the night sky is more massive than I've ever known; the moonlight casts a ghostly glow on the now-silver city. The stars stretch across the sky tenfold and cover the heavens like a sparkling blanket streaked with shades of silver and violet. The stars here would put the ones back home to shame. I'd been too busy to notice them last night at the party, but now they almost seem to beg for attention.

Staring at them now, I feel a strange sense of nostalgia fill my chest. A fable, told to me a thousand times, runs through my mind just as it has a hundred times since its first telling. Followed soon after is the storyteller; a raven-haired, wiry woman with cheekbones as sharp as her humor and skin that always smelled sweetly of citrus. Tulio's mother worked as a maid in some rich guy's mansion, and I remember she had dry red hands with practically nonexistent fingernails, and a face that would have been beautiful had it not been so gaunt in appearance. Every day she would take Tulio and me to work with her. She told us she just wanted help with the chores, but I think she actually wanted us to keep her company. Each time without fail she would hand us a bundle of dirty clothing and a bucket of soapy water and weave us stories off the top of her head as we cleaned.

That woman made my head swim with thoughts of adventures and riches. She filled my heart to the brim with dreams and desires and made me believe there was more to life than scrubbing the dirt off of someone else's trousers. She had filled the very skies with hope that shone like the stars. I don't know if Tulio ever felt like that, but there were times I could have sworn he felt something.

But it was almost like she had known. One morning she refused to take us with her, saying something about having very little work to do and how there was no need for all three of us to be troubled. She said she wouldn't be long.

I'll never forget the expression on Tulio's face when we went to walk her home and only found her body and a spilled tub of mud-brown water in the wreckage. Blackened hearts, a moment of panic, and a maid in the wrong place at the wrong time; it had been a burglary, but they had stolen much more than just jewels. If only they'd known how much more valuable a life is than trinkets.

Suddenly a creak permeates the silence and I feel myself tense. I listen to the sounds of darkness in the temple – waiting. After a few moments I begin to relax again when nothing out of the ordinary happens.

The bed that the deities were given to rest in is behind me, but in the quietude of the night my thoughts had been far too loud. I found myself unable to find any peace behind closed lids. After what felt like an hour of pretending to sleep, I wedged myself out of bed slowly in an effort not to disturb Tulio, then tip-toed my way across the floor so I wouldn't wake Chel who had built a fort in the corner with what little blankets and pillows were available to her. Altivo was slumbering in the middle of the room, his body splayed out like a cat, and I can still hear him snoring softly.

After the ball game we had been mobbed by half the crowd. At first, it seemed as though everyone was just going to go home, but suddenly we rounded a corner and an ecstatic group of fans had swarmed us. They kept asking us questions about why we had pretended to not know what we were doing for so long. At first, Tulio had been uncomfortable, but after a while he almost seemed to enjoy the attention. He kept assuring the natives that we were doing it mostly for entertainment and that us winning was no accident – though I noticed that he failed to explain how, exactly, we had managed such a feat.

Of course, it all annoyed Chel to no end, whose only goal was to get our rear ends to the temple without any more diversions. Eventually she achieved her purpose, and the entire trip back Tulio kept talking about all the times he had used his powers during the ball game. He mentioned something about causing the natives to fall at his will and bringing the ball to life, but both Chel and I merely hummed in response, trying as hard as possible to hold in our amusement.

The moment we made it back to the temple Chel had skipped the pleasantries and demanded that the three of us go to bed. It was obvious she believed we'd have our hands full tomorrow – not that I blame her.

The gentle breeze causes goose bumps to prickle along my arms, but I had long ago abandoned the blanket I'd brought with me. I look around my vicinity for the sheet when I hear it – a rustle, followed by a soft thud and the ominous pitter-patter of feet against a temple floor. A faint trill of nerves shoots down to my stomach, though whether it's caused by anticipation or dread I can't tell.

"Why're you still up?"

Tulio's voice is an octave deeper than usual from sleep, and he slurs through his speech as though he's still tired. He stands behind me, but I can see his feet out of the corner of my eye.

"Couldn't sleep," I mumble half-heartedly. At this, Tulio settles down next to me and drops his legs over the edge of the window. His face is paler than usual and the skin under his eyes is dark. He appears almost wilted, although there's something shining in his eyes. He leans against his hands and stares out at the city, as captivated as I had been moments ago. I wonder if the sight reminds him of his mother; if he feels a strange tight welling in his chest, though he can't explain why. Does he stare at the stars and feel the sense of hope she had planted in our hearts, or does he even remember her stories at all?

"It's been quite a day, hasn't it?" Tulio asks, lifting me from my thoughts. I shrug noncommittally.

"That's a bit of an understatement, don't ya think?" Despite my serious tone Tulio still chuckles, and the sound causes me to smile.

"Oh, but _surely_ this is all in the life of a god?" Tulio asks with an expansive gesture, the edge of his mouth tipped in a cocky grin. With a jolt like stepping on a razor, I realize that in all the rush and excitement of the game I never took that chance to sit Tulio down and tell him the truth like I'd been planning to. My mouth suddenly dries at the prospect, and I fidget with my hands in my lap.

It was different before. Earlier, I never thought we'd survive the ball game, and I'd had that threat of our imminent deaths looming over my head. That was the only thing propelling me forward. But now, with the memory of him laughing and smiling with the natives as they began to warm up to him dancing in my head, the words I need to say seem lodged in my throat.

_Think about what he's going to do to you once he gets his memory back._

And it's that thought, more than anything, which causes those words to break free.

"Tulio," I begin slowly; thoughtfully, trying to consider all the ways of saying this. "I need to, um—" Suddenly a voice from the back of the temple cuts me off.

"_Boys_," Chel calls, "go _back_ to _bed_." Chel's words are muffled from the pillow she has lodged in front of her face, but her meaning is clear nonetheless.

"You'd think she'd know better than to boss me around," Tulio whispers under his breath, yet casts a nervous glance in Chel's direction as if she could have heard. However, I suddenly feel like hugging her. As far as I'm concerned, her interruption is a clear sign from the universe telling me I shouldn't tell Tulio anything.

After a while, when Chel doesn't say anything more and the air becomes full of her smooth breathing, I look at Tulio and say, "Well, you heard her — best not to invoke her wrath." I make a move to stand before Tulio catches my sleeve in his iron grip, itch forgotten.

"Wait," he says softly. "I think she's gone back to sleep."

I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, and so should we. C'mon." I tug halfheartedly at his grip, but he still doesn't let go of my shirt. I sink back into my former position. "What is it?"

"I just don't want to go back to bed," Tulio says curtly, releasing my sleeve with a sniff.

"Why not?" I ask. "We've got a big day tomorr—"

"Exactly," he interrupts. "I…Look, I just want to postpone tomorrow for as long as possible, okay? I don't think I can handle much more than I already have."

I stare at Tulio out of the corner of my eye, and notice all the little ticks he's giving off. A twitch of the eye, a flex of his fingers, a grinding of teeth; even subconsciously, Tulio still exhibits all the signs he used to when he was pretending he wasn't scared out of his wits. I feel a small flicker of joy at the thought before the meaning of this sinks in.

I can't exactly blame him for being scared; Tulio had not been the only one who saw Tzekel-Kan leading all the losers down to what he had called the 'sacrificial chamber.' A hunch tells me that tomorrow morning will be just about the same as the attempted sacrifice this morning; however, this time it will be a larger scale and far harder to get out of. There had to have been at least fifteen people on the opposing team, and even though their loss meant our survival today, that doesn't mean I won't fight for them tomorrow.

I imagine that Tulio must be thinking of what he'd done earlier and his hand in fifteen more potential deaths. The thought only adds one more person to my list of people I'm determined to save. The expression on his face bears a striking resemblance to Tulio as a child; a ghost of his past coming to haunt him even though he doesn't remember why.

"You know, I once knew this woman," I begin slowly, measuring his reaction. "I met her, oh, a _long_ time ago. But, uh—"

"What are you—?"

"_Shh_, it's my turn. Anyways, I was down on my luck at the time, and this woman took me aside and told me a story. Well, I _say_ story but it's really more of a metaphor, I mean—" I cut myself off when I see the look Tulio is sending me and clear my throat. "Right, well, she pointed up at the sky and made me look at all the stars."

Slowly, almost gently, I scoot closer to him until our arms brush. He glances down at the contact and gives me a most peculiar expression. I take his hand and use his index finger to point up to the velvety night, a reflection of what Tulio's mother had done for me at the time.

"She said that they were actually little rays of hope that got caught up in the blackish bit up there. And it was said that no matter which sky you were under, the light they radiated could lead a person through the darkest of nights, just so long as they kept their eyes open." I lower his arm, but my hand remains curved over his.

Tulio already knows this story by heart. I remember him crossing his arms each time his mother told it with that infamous eyebrow of his arched high, but in his eyes there'd be the unmistakable tinge of something leaving its mark. I search his blue irises now, hoping beyond hope that the story will spark something. He only stares back, his brow narrowed as if he's watching me as well, although it feels different somehow.

"So keep your eyes open, Tulio," I finish, adding my own twist to the story. "Morning can't be too far off."

And slowly, bit by bit, his fingers stop twitching, his jaw quits gnashing, and his eye relaxes. His wide eyes suddenly flicker down to our hands, and back up to my face, but he does nothing else. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest as I see the peace washing over Tulio's face, and I know that now at least one of us will get a restful sleep.

"If I look up," Chel suddenly growls, causing both of us to jump, "I had better see two sleeping men, and _not_ what sounds like two men who are _still_ chatting."

Snickering, I pat Tulio's leg and push myself to my feet. "Come on, we should get to sleep before Chel rips off our heads." Tulio follows suite, but doesn't immediately follow when I move towards the bed.

"Miguel?" I hear him call, his voice more tentative than I'm used to. My only response is an angle of my head as I crane my neck in his direction.

"Have you opened your eyes yet?"

I hesitate. The answer is an obvious no, but one look at his face and I can tell that's not what he needs to hear. I turn back around to face him, a smile spreading across my face.

"Who says they were closed to begin with?"

* * *

It only takes an hour to commit the pattern on the temple ceiling to memory.

Last night, thanks to the warm belly of wine, I had fallen asleep almost instantly. It had been a dreamless slumber which I couldn't have been more grateful for. However, tonight my eyes stay as wide open as bats, knowing that if they slip shut my mind will be plagued with the worst sorts of nightmares: The kind that reminds you of what you've lost, and make you lose it over and over again.

How long will it take me to tell him the truth? Am I even going to? Somehow the thought of not telling him both disturbs me and helps to ebb the tightening in my chest.

I can hear his breathing beside me, soft and even and deep. I turn on my side and memorize his face instead, staring at the curves of his ear and shoulder and studying the relentless stubble growing along his jaw. I feel a strange urge to reach out and run my hand along his chin and feel the rough edges. Before I can find out whether I'd have acted on the impulse, Tulio snorts and buries his face deeper into his pillow.

I drag my hand down my face with a weary sigh. As I close my eyes I try to concentrate on how long this day has been and on how heavy my limbs are. Eventually, the lulling sound of Tulio's breathing coaxes me into a state of half-consciousness.

"Where are you taking me?"

My eyes snap open once more. For half a second I almost think I'm dreaming, but then I realize that the world is entirely too sharp and focused to be conjured up in my head.

Next to me, Tulio is still sleeping. His eyes are squeezed tight, almost as if he's in pain, and his mouth is barely open. It doesn't seem as though he said anything at all, and I tell myself that I must have only imagined it.

"I don't like surprises." This time I catch it: Tulio's lips moving like the soft breeze across the leaves on a branch. My brow furrows as I listen to him, waiting for the next line. The words stir something in the back of head, but I can't quite place it.

It seems like another hour has passed before he finally mutters, "I don't get it." Then another pause before, "Seven's my lucky number."

Then it strikes me like a church bell on Sunday. This is only a little over two months ago when I brought Tulio the pair of loaded dice I gambled from a gypsy. Our old ones had only landed on three half the time so I had felt reasonably safe when I was told I had to land on a five. Tulio thought it was hilarious when I told them the only reason I won was because our loaded dice had landed on the wrong number.

Suddenly my insides twist because I know what's coming next.

"God, I love you," Tulio says, his voice hoarse.

I feel my lower lip quiver even though my eyes are dry. I take a deep breath and fall against the pillow, wondering what morning will bring.

"I love you, too," I whisper, because I don't have much of a choice. "Te amo, Tulio."

As I finally fall back into a dreamless slumber, I find myself wishing that Tulio hadn't been asleep when he said that, even if it wouldn't really be him saying it.


	11. Chapter 11

**~Tulio~**

_O__ut of the blackness appears a city carved from white stone and full of nameless people. No matter where I turn, all their faces are distorted beyond recognition, their features blurred at the edges. They all rush past me as if I'm invisible, which, as far as I know, is true. I wander aimlessly, trying to find something I can anchor myself to, but the gray sky is too dark and every time I turn a corner I only see more strangers, more foreign variables to add to my collection of mysteries._

_ Suddenly, I round a bend, and right in front of me is a face so familiar it causes an ache in my chest. When he sees me he smiles, the sight warm and comforting like a fire heating the Earth. He walks towards me, and I instinctively hold out an arm as if to catch him, but as soon he reaches me the world flashes, sending me a string of visions where there's a whirl of maps, boats, and gold. I see a flash of red dice and a smile before the world turns into a dreamless black and pitches me into an atmosphere of total darkness where I can't see anything, but I can hear a voice that whispers into the abyss._

_ "I love you, too. Te amo, Tulio."_

…

There's a gentle nudge to my shoulder that slowly drags me from my dream. The visions disintegrate; as I try to hold onto them, they slowly but surely slip away like water through my fingers. I keep my eyes shut in an act of malice, hoping that whoever woke me up will eventually walk away.

"Get up!"

Something spongy whacks my face. The air rushes from my lungs as I shout in protest, my cry stifled by my pillow. The weight above me disappears and I have just enough time to open my eyes before the sight of purple satin smacks my face again. I sit up with a start, hands scrabbling to get the fluffy cushion off of my face. Turning, I see an angry Chel standing over the bed, hands sitting on her hips.

"I am going to count to one," she warns.

"Alright, alright," I grumble, swinging my feet over the edge of the mattress. "You hit hard for such a small woman."

"_One_!" Before I can duck, she grabs the pillow and slams it into my face once more.

"Huh?" Miguel lifts his head from his pillow, his eyes squinting at the pair of us. "Wha's goin' on…?"

"I just thought you two might like a chance to spruce up a bit." She glances at our tangled hair and rumpled clothes with a wry grin. "You kinda need it."

Miguel yawns widely and hops to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm still tired," he whines.

"Well, _maybe_ if _someone_ had gone to bed when I told them to, that _someone_ wouldn't be quite so tired," Chel says, glaring none too subtly at us. She looks Miguel up and down and narrows her eyes. "Are you really going to wear that?"

Miguel glances down at his red shirt and tucks the hem into his pants. "Yes," he replies indignantly. "It's comfortable."

"If you say so," Chel says under her breath. "Alright, we don't have much time. The High Priest will be here any minute. _Let's go!_"

She bustles around us, fixing hair and straightening clothes. She rolls her eyes each time one of us yawns, and smacks our cheeks whenever our eyes threaten to close. As she's making a futile attempt to tame my curls, she suddenly gasps. "Oh no," she murmurs, her finger tracing a trail along the side of my head.

"What?" Miguel and I ask at the same time. Without waiting for a response, Miguel hurries over to my side and squints at Chel's finger.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that." Miguel nudges Chel out of the way and I feel his fingers in my hair, although this time he doesn't seem concerned about making it presentable. His fingers poke a sore spot on my scalp and I grimace. "It's not that big a deal, right?"

"No, it is," Chel corrects him. "It really, _really _is."

"What are you two—_ouch_, stop it!" I snap. Miguel yanks his hands away.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he mutters. He turns towards Chel and shrugs. "He's had that cut since we got here and nothing's happened. What do you think—"

"I beg your pardons, my Lords." Chel gasps again and quickly begins smoothing down the hair around my ear. Tzekel-Kan strides into the temple, a contemptible look written across his smug face. "I am here to take you to the ceremony."

"We'll be with you in a moment," Miguel tells him. He gives the High Priest a small wave and Tzekel-Kan nods, stepping through the curtain to wait outside. Miguel immediately rounds on Chel.

"What's wrong with it?" His voice is hushed now and he seems slightly panicked. Chel merely shakes her head and gives my hair a few more quick pats.

"Nothing, nothing — don't worry about it right now. We'll clean it up tonight." For a moment it looks like Miguel is going to argue, but Chel leans closer to him and whispers, "You have to go. He'll suspect something's up if you don't." Miguel's mouth snaps shut as her words sink in. She gets her hands on our shoulders and shoves us towards the entrance. "Now go; he's waiting. Try not to screw everything up."

When we reach the curtain, Miguel glances over his shoulder.

"Hey, you coming?" She shakes her head, and Miguel cocks his head to the side. Chel crosses her arms and holds them tight to her chest, a tense smile on her face.

"You boys go on without me," she says. "I'd rather not go."

Miguel pauses, turning all the way around to face her. "You're kidding," he says. "We need you with us."

Chel scoffs, waving a hand in the air. "You don't need me for this. Just improvise, you're good at that." For a moment, it looks as though Miguel is going to argue some more before Chel impatiently points towards the exit. "_Go,_" she demands.

Reluctantly, Miguel pushes back the curtain where Tzekel-Kan greets us with a smile and a bow. He leads us across the city to one of the largest temples.

The journey is dead silent, the three of us lost in our own thoughts. I can feel the gentlest of winds run through my hair, reminding me of Chel's fingers through my hair just minutes earlier, and I wonder once again what bothered her. It must have been the injury that's there, although I'm not sure what's so bad about it. It's been hurting a bit more since the ball game, but that's all. It's like Miguel said, nothing had happened to me because of the injury, so I don't understand her negative reaction.

"This way my Lords," Tzekel-Kan says, taking the lead up the stairs. Once inside the temple, he takes us down a narrow flight of stairs that plunges us into darkness within seconds.

After a moment the stairs level out into a long hallway with brackets attached to the walls. Tzekel-Kan pulls a torch out of one and proceeds to lead us down the dark corridor. Each step towards the basement fills the air with a more bone-chilling cold. It seeps into my bones and I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I had something warmer to wear than these flimsy robes. Maybe I'll take Miguel up on his advice and change back into my old clothes once we get out of here.

Eventually the torch in Tzekel-Kan's hand glances upon a mahogany door with a golden handle. The High Priest quickly pushes it open and ushers us inside, following us as soon as Miguel gets in.

The room is huge. The ceiling is so far above our heads that when we take a step the sound of our feet hitting the ground echoes through the corridor. Along the walls are fifty sconces that light up the room well enough to be able to see but eerily enough to give it a sinister effect. Along each wall are murals depicting the death of various people in increasingly grotesque ways. In the center of the room is a large stone slab and sitting right next to it is a short table. Across the room is another entrance, this one simply an arch way that fades into darkness.

"Whoa," Miguel breathes. The word echoes through the chamber once like a whisper on the wind and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"The families shall be arriving shortly," Tzekel-Kan says. I hear the sentence once more as it echoes. He strides past us and walks up to the counter, reaching down to pick something up from the table. There's a flash of silver and I realize that I had missed the blade sitting there. I swallow, suddenly feeling the desire to take several steps in the opposite direction.

"Families?" Miguel asks.

"The chamber is far too small to house the entire city, but I prefer it when there are witnesses for the sacrifices." Tzekel-Kan smirks, twirling the knife in his hand. "So we invite the families to watch. It will still be crowded considered the size of the sacrifice, but it will be worth it."

"So, uh, what do we do?" Miguel's voice has turned suddenly shaky, but to his credit he does his best to hide it. Tzekel-Kan smiles something I'd call friendly if we were under different circumstances.

"Enjoy yourselves," Tzekel-Kan replies nonchalantly, gesturing to two cushions on the ground.

Miguel sucks in a sharp breath, and for a moment I fear he's going to respond, but just as he opens his mouth a dull buzz fills the hollow space, bouncing off the walls and making itself twice as loud. Miguel and I exchange a glance before the mahogany door opens again and people begin slinking into the room. They move against the walls, watching the three people in the middle of the room apprehensively. I feel a twist in the bottom of my stomach as I catch sight of Kisa and her mother at the edge of the crowd.

_Not again._

Kisa is taking in the large room curiously, and as soon as her eyes land on mine she smiles weakly, sending me a sad, discrete wave. I nod my head in response and in a moment she's disappeared into the throng of natives.

Miguel sinks onto one of the cushions nearest to us and I follow his lead, folding my hands in my lap.

Tzekel-Kan adjusts the skull ornament on his head and steps forward, raising his voice to cut through the chatter.

"We have here the bravest warriors in the city, and even they could not stand against the power of the gods. Do you understand now? The gods need the blood of our people – it is the way of the world! It is the way of _our_ world! The Age of the Jaguar is upon us, we cannot afford to neglect it!"

_The Age of the Jaguar?_

I remember that. That's what the captain of the guard told me when I asked where all the people were. He said that we had come to 'purge the city of vice and sin.' I don't know about Miguel, but there's only one evil I see here.

Tzekel-Kan turns to the crowd of sacrifices and points to the closest victim. I recognize the older man who had the three red feathers in his hair from the game.

Red Feathers walks forward, his chin jutted into the air and bitterness glazed over his eyes like cold steel. He swings his leg over the side of the slab and hauls himself up, lying down with a resigned sigh.

Miguel leans close to me and whispers in my ear, "Okay, so on the count of three I'll rush forward and you—"

Suddenly, there's a small squeak of horror. Kisa stands at the edge of the crowd, grasping her mother's hand so tightly her knuckles are white. Red Feathers must be the person they're here for, and I feel my heart begin to pound faster.

Miguel is right: something has to be done.

When Tzekel-Kan steps forward and raises the blade into the air, Kisa's mother lets out a haunting wail. Her cry quickly dissolves into sobs as she covers her mouth with her hand, but all the same, the ghost of her misery remains locked in the air, foreshadowing what's to come. I feel determination surge through my veins and I push myself to my feet. The High Priest pauses, and Miguel, his voice thick with relief, whispers, "You have a plan?"

Miguel's voice reverberates through the open chamber, a reflection of the same question burning in everyone else's minds. Red Feather does not seemed disturbed by this sudden silence, only tightens his fist as if he expects the blow to come any moment. I glance down at Miguel and find him staring back at me, his eyes wide, but his lips curled up at the ends. I tilt my head towards the crowd, and mouth the words _I'm opening my eyes._

Miguel doesn't hesitate to scramble to his feet.

Tzekel-Kan stares at us intently, the blade still poised above his head waiting to strike. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the entire crowd lean forward at once. I suddenly feel an intense pressure to do something profound and godlike, such as shooting light from my every orifice as I hover in midair, my mighty voice filling the chamber with its vastness as I rain my fury down upon the High Priest to rid the city from his presence forever.

I clear my voice again.

Tzekel-Kan's confidence falters, his arms bending slightly and it's only just now that I realize that I have no idea what I'm going to do. I blink rapidly, and I feel Miguel nudge my arm urgently as if to say _hurry up already_.

A thousand words run through my head. I think of the last time Tzekel-Kan tried to sacrifice someone and Miguel had stopped him. He had been so confident — so sure — that it had almost seemed as though he had planned it beforehand. But now he says nothing, despite the increasingly cocky grin on his face. If he believes I can stop this, then something tells me I can.

I glance up and catch Kisa's eye once more. Her tiny face is so full of hope, and her fists are closed so tightly around the small golden trinket looped around her neck that her knuckles have turned white. The child's gaze is focused so intently upon my face that I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

And suddenly I know just the words to say.

"Why?"

The word comes out softer than I had intended, but it seems to have an interesting effect. Tzekel-Kan's elbows bend further as he lowers the weapon to his side.

"My Lord?" he says simply.

"_Why_?" I say again, louder. "Why are you so hell-bent on these stupid rituals? You act like we asked for this, but I think I'd remember doing that."

I ignore the little voice that says my memory isn't exactly trustworthy.

Tzekel-Kan finally seems to locate his voice, and with a sudden unexpected bravado he says, "Forgive me if I have been mistaken, but I was under the impression you had made your desires quite clear when you devoured the soul of that warrior."

"_That was a mistake_!" I roar, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I feel the sudden urge to kick something, but there's nothing around to take my anger out on. Members of the crowd gasp in shock. My grip tightens. "I didn't do that on purpose. I was trying to help someone else, and he – he got in the way. I—"

"And so you disposed of him for his trespasses. My acolyte tells me he did not obey your orders, causing you to take matters into your own hands." Tzekel-Kan smiles, his face much more relaxed as though he understands exactly how I'm feeling. "Commendable behavior, of course; one can never be too lenient when dealing with traitors."

"Ah Puch wasn't a traitor!" A voice pipes up from the crowd, tiny and high-pitched and broken with rage. Tzekel-Kan cranes his head in the direction of the voice, but he does not address Kisa directly. Instead, he looks at the two gods in front of him, an expression entirely unreadable on his face.

"So," he says, "shall I continue?" Without waiting for a response he wraps his fingers around the handle of the blade, his eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

"No," I say. "_No_, have you even been listening? I don't want people dying because of me!" At this, the High Priest's eyes narrow. I'm not sure whether I've imagined it, but I could swear I see a hint of rebellion spark in his watery eyes. His fingers twitch around the handle of the knife and there's something haughty in the angle of his chin. My muscles tense as I prepare to spring forward on the chance that he decides to kill Red Feathers anyway. I wait for the flash of flying metal, but it never comes. Instead, he merely takes in a ragged breath and bows his head stiffly.

"Of course, my Lord. Forgive me."

"Oh, it's alright," Miguel finally chimes in. Perhaps he feels the tension in the room and is entirely too uncomfortable in it, or maybe he thinks I've had enough to deal with at this point. Either way, he continues. "Luckily for you we're the forgiving type — second chances and all. Just don't make us repeat ourselves. We're terribly fond of our voices, but there's a point where it just grows tiresome."

When Miguel is done speaking there's a moment where no one moves. It's as though everyone in the room saw only one direction this evening would spiral towards, and at the end of the night they saw only the sweeping cloak of Death as he dragged away those they loved. However, in a sudden rush of movement, people suddenly find it unbearable to wait and spring forward to touch their kin, if only to ensure themselves that this is real and that their hands won't simply go through like an apparition.

Red Feathers remains strewn across the slab, his arms and legs stiff to his side as if he never heard me speak. Kisa and her mother are off to the side, obviously desperate to join him but wary of Tzekel-Kan who hasn't moved an inch.

Kisa's mother is dabbing at the tears still pricked in her eyes, but Kisa doesn't seem to be paying her much attention. Her large brown eyes are focused on where Miguel and I stand side-by-side. However, unlike everyone else in the room that are blubbering with happiness and trying very hard to contain their emotions, Kisa's young face is twisted into an expression of deep and utter loathing.

I almost take a step back. What had I done to earn that look? Hadn't I just single-handedly saved everyone in the room from an untimely fate? Hadn't it been me who had protected her family this time, and had therefore fulfilled my debt to her?

But there's no mistaking it. Kisa's eyes are narrowed and her cheeks flushed with fury. Her arms are stiffly crossed and her lower lip is trembling as though she's trying hard not to cry. I look at Miguel and see a smile so large I can see all his teeth. Clearly he has not noticed this sudden change in alliance. When I turn back towards Kisa she has already turned away and she and her mother are standing next to Red Feathers' side. Mrs. Kisa's cries of joy joining all the others as they fill the room.

Suddenly there's a great huffing sound and everyone turns towards the mahogany door. Chief Tannabok bounds in, the door slamming into the wall as he shoves it open, and stands there with his chest heaving as he tries to suck air into his lungs.

"I heard — time changed — thought I'd missed it—" he says, gasping for air. "I came as quickly as I could but, what — what have I missed?" He seems confused, his tiny eyes sweeping back and forth like he's trying to see what he had come for and not what he was currently seeing. I'm sure Tannabok had expected to find a pile of dead bodies at this point and a crowd weeping for an entirely different reason.

He locks eyes with Tzekel-Kan and the tension instantly builds a hundredfold. I look back and forth between them nervously, half-expecting one of them to suddenly leap at the other and begin an intense showdown.

"Lord Julio has saved us all!"

The speaker is a young man. He had been one of the intended sacrifices, but now his face is bright and happy and a blush of excitement is spread across the bridge of his nose. Tannabok blinks at him before turning to me, and suddenly the entire chamber is full of an ear-splitting cheer as all the natives throw their hands in the air and begin cheering.

Miguel laughs heartily and throws an arm across my shoulders casually. "Way to go, Lord _Julio_." He has to shout in order to be heard, but I still grin.

There's a soft warmth in my palm and I glance down to see an old woman holding my hand in hers. She has white hair wispy like a cloud and the shrunken appearance of someone who's lived far longer than a normal human. Her eyes, however, are young and they're filled to the brim with tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks.

Standing beside her is the boy who had spoken out and there's a wide smile across his face to rival Miguel's.

"Thank you." Her voice is no more than the softest of whispers, as if she had long ago forsaken the act of speaking. The man next to her nods at me, his arm looped around the old woman's. I try and think of something to say, but my throat has constricted to a point that any words that tried to come out would only be a strangled mess. I simply give them both a smile and the man leads his elder away slowly.

Although there's a high cause for celebration, there's also a rush to get out of the sacrificial chamber. It's not that I blame them either; staying here is like dancing on the grave you almost got put into.

Tzekel-Kan is standing next to the slab wiping a clean rag along his spotless blade. As soon as he notices me staring at him, he clears the scowl from his face and begins furiously cleaning his weapon.

Tannabok is the last to leave. Just before he leaves the door, he sends us a curious expression. It appears as though he's about to say something then seems to think better of it, shaking his head instead and slipping out the door.

Miguel gestures towards the door and the two of us walk towards it. The side of my scalp suddenly prickles again and I groan inwardly. Ever since Chel dug her fingers through it it's been bugging me. I raise a hand and scratch at it impatiently. Suddenly I hiss as my nail scraps under the scab. Miguel stops and glances at me.

"What?" It seems that nothing can worry him too much because there's still a smile on his face.

I pull my hand away from my face and inspect it. Blood is smeared across my fingertip and I groan out loud this time.

"It's bleeding again," I say. "Honestly, you'd think a god wouldn't have wounds, you know?"

Suddenly there's a loud clatter behind us. Miguel and I whirl around and see Tzekel-Kan standing there, the weapon at his feet and his eyes wide with shock. Within seconds he has righted himself, bending over to pick up the blade with a muttered apology. He doesn't wait for a response before scuttling off towards the opposite entrance.

I glance at Miguel, but he only shrugs, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the door. I put the High Priest's behavior out of my mind. After all, I'm sure whatever bothered the High Priest has nothing to do with me.


	12. Chapter 12

**~Miguel~**

Long ago when Tulio and I had just recently become friends, Tulio started going through this rebellious "I know better than you" stage. Unfortunately for me, this phase included him showing off how clever he was by pulling prank after prank on unsuspecting victims. Since Tulio thought my reactions were simply _hilarious_, I was usually the only one who would fall prey to his little tricks. As a result, I'd often find dead bugs in my shoes and toenail clippings in my hair when I woke up. Eventually I ran to his mother for help and she agreed to be my partner is an otherwise impossible feat.

I watched my dinner carefully that night, but Tulio just dove right in. Of course, neither of us bothered to tell him that his mother had filled his portion of stew with some of the worst spices she owned.

Revenge, after all, is a dish best served hot.

It took about thirty seconds before his hand stilled, fork midway to his mouth. A deep blush ran across his face and his eyes began to water as he leaped from his seat and rushed to a nearby bowl of water. I can remember his mother trying to tell him through her laughter that water would only spread the spices around his mouth more, but I don't think he bothered to listen because the next thing I heard was, "_Aaaaugh, _that's worse, that's much, much worse!"

Once he had managed to calm down a little, he looked at the pair of us with a look of utter betrayal. When he found out it had been my idea, he wasn't as angry as I thought he'd have been. Don't get me wrong, he still hit me upside the head and blamed me for his future distaste of anything spicier than mild, but for the first time I saw respect shining in his eyes — although that may have just been the tears.

And this time, I'm sure that anybody staring at my face as we exit through the chamber would see a similar expression on my face: pride, respect, and a mild haze of confusion over what the hell just happened.

As we step out of the temple, sunlight pools into our eyes like golden water. The same rays envelop El Dorado, casting everything in its amber light. We stand at one of the highest points of the city, everything from the gates to the gardens to the market in our view. The city is like a bowl, surrounded by temples and jungle, shrouded from the outside world. It's a secret, an _adventure_, and we discovered it before anyone else from the outside did. I don't want to waste this experience, and now that Tzekel-Kan won't bother us anymore, maybe it's possible for me to fix my mistakes as well.

I look at Tulio, and he's smiling.

"Want to head back to the temple, then? Let Chel know what happened?" I suggest. Already I can picture her fretting about whether we managed to screw everything up. The reason why she didn't go with us I'll never know, but I suppose she's just squeamish, as hard as that is for me to imagine.

Tulio lets out a brash laugh. "Go back? Hell no, after that? I'll go stir crazy if I don't do something." He casts his gaze over the city, then points to a corner where a small crowd is gathering. "What's going on there? We don't know, so let's find out."

For a moment I consider saying no, but then the words, "All right," come out of my mouth and I realize that I don't really care.

We make our way towards the crowd, the entire way joking and laughing about Tzekel-Kan. I hadn't expected his mood to lighten so easily, but I'm not about to complain. Before long we make it the edge of the group where a few stray citizens are still gathering. Tulio stands on his tiptoes to see over the crowd, but then he shrugs and tells me he can't see anything.

"This day shall survive in our history for all time!" cries a voice. "On this morn, the lords granted us our freedom and struck down the darkness that has plagued our city for generations. All of us own them our gratitude, and in order to celebrate this occasion—" A boy jumps off the podium and hurries to an empty stall. "—all our wares are half off!"

There are a few half-hearted cheers in the crowd. The merchant is smiling widely, but the longer time goes on and no one moves, he begins to shift back and forth in his tiny booth.

"Come on, guys," he says uneasily. "_Half-off_."

Several people mill into the marketplace, but most of the citizens simply show their indifference by shrugging and walking off. The merchant sighs, and lies flat on the ground, staring at the clouds floating by. Tulio nudges me as though to say _watch this_, and walks over to the young man.

"Afternoon," he says casually. "What was with the crowd?"

The boy's eyes are shut, but when Tulio speaks one eye squints open to peer at him. His whole body jerks like someone tied a rope around his midsection and yanked. He stares at us wide-eyed and silent for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Hi there," he says cautiously. "Um, the crowd was just people I gathered around? I guess? I mean, I'm good at getting people interested but…not so good at the selling part. That's my dad's job but…" The kid scratched the back of his head and cast a glance at his stall. "I started shouting about news of your heroic deeds and they all flocked. One of my buddies was one of the kids you saved, see, and he came to me within seconds, so I knew before most." He flapped a hand to where many people had already wandered off and added, "Now that those people are running off the whole city will find out within the hour. This city does that. There are no secrets here."

Heh. _Right_, kid.

"I tried to get into the ceremony myself, but…well the High Priest wouldn't let me because I'm not technically family. So, er…" The boy clears his throat again.

Tulio is silent as well, so I take this as a moment to say something. "What are you selling?"

"Oh! Uh, I've got some jewelry and clothes." The boy seems very relieved to not have to continue the previous topic. "I also have some seeds for your garden. I'm out of vegetables, but I've got plenty of flowers." He pauses for a moment, staring blankly at a point on his stall. "So many flowers…" He shook his head and put his arms behind his head, scooting around to make himself comfortable. "I had some paint made from berries too, but somebody came by earlier and bought most of the colors."

"And all of it's half-off? That's generous of you," says Tulio.

The boy shrugs. "I saw a chance and I took it. Nobody was buying, and then I heard about what you did, so I figured people would be more interested if you were somehow involved." He laughs softly. "Guess I'm not very good at this. Not that I'm surprised, really."

Tulio crosses his arms, and when I glance at him his expression is thoughtful. After a moment's silence the boy mutters, "You gonna buy something or are we just gonna stand here until one of us passes out from heatstroke?"

"Er—" I take a glance at a couple of the blue and green earrings on the table, and then I notice the smell of something delicious. "What's that smell?"

"My lunch," he says simply. Suddenly his eyes pops open and he jerks up. "My lunch! Aw, jeez, I totally forgot…" He pulls out a small cauldron of red soup and stirs it frantically, stamping out the fire that had been lit below it. When he sees that it's been saved, he sighs in relief.

"Did you really have a fire lit below your desk?" I ask, rushing around to his side. The whole underside of the wooden stand is burned black by heat, and several of the legs are morphing. The kid only shrugs.

"If my customers could see it, they'd probably think it was for sale. Nothing makes people greedier than having a merchant say they can't have something. That much I do know." He pulls a bowl from part of his merchandise and tips the edge of the cauldron until a small amount of soup has poured into the dish. "I wanted to keep food close to me for the whole day, so I made sure to make a lot. If you see my dad, don't tell him. He'll be sore if he found out what I'd managed to ruin in two days."

"Why isn't he here?" I ask casually, picking at the black dust attached to the wood until it floats to the ground and coats the plaza tiles below my feet. The boy lets out a breath so deep that the dust floats away to another tile.

"The Chief needed all the people he could get to build your boat, so my dad got involved. Thanks for that, by the way."

I straighten up so quickly that the back of my head slams into the top of the stand. "Ow – boat? What boat?"

"Seriously? The boat you asked the Chief for. He's got just about every adult in town working on it. The only people who were excused had…special circumstances." The boy's eyes wander up and he crosses his arms. "Why don't you and your friend go check it out yourself so I can eat in peace?"

His words awaken the reminder that Tulio is standing just on the opposite side of the stall, hearing every word of our conversation. As far as I know, he has no clue about the boat. I turn towards him, a sheepish expression already forcing its way onto my face as I'm sure I'll be facing his infamous _do tell _look, but he's no longer standing in the place he'd been previously. In fact, he has disappeared from the area completely.

"Wha…? Tulio?" I rub the sore spot on my head and look around. The kid lounges back and grins. He points down the road and I whirl around, instantly feeling my mouth drop open.

Down the road there's an intersection between two streets. At the crossroads Kisa's mother is standing next to the man with the red feathers in his hair and bawling her eyes out. He's speaking to a young woman, but eventually she shakes her head and walks off. Normally this scene wouldn't bother me so much, but at this moment Tulio is approaching them. Tiny little warning sounds that I've never heard before start blaring in my head and they make a weird strangled noise come out of my throat.

I begin to walk towards them with quick strides, before ditching this method and sprinting. Tulio hears my footsteps and turns his head, seeing me in time for his eyes to widen before I realize that I've forgotten to stop.

_Smack!_

I slam right into Tulio's side and the two of us go tumbling to the ground in a tangle of curses and limbs. I end up splayed across Tulio's stomach, with him lying beneath me unable to move. I'm about to apologize when I hear a loud, obnoxious laugh from above. I glance up as best I can and see Kisa's mother with her hand covering her mouth, trying her best to keep her shrieking giggles to a minimum. Then, without warning, she bursts into tears again and buries her face in her companion's chest.

I quickly jump to my feet and try to dust off my clothes. Tulio stands slowly, simply staring at the woman's face.

"My lords, please excuse my sister. She has had a distressing few days and now everything sets her off." With a soft whimper, she punches her brother's arm weakly before sobbing. "Her daughter has gone missing," he continues as though nothing happened. "She ran off right after the ceremony, and we've not been able to find her. Emetaly tends to…overreact at times."

At that moment, Emetaly let out a shriek of despair. "Why does she keep doing these things to me? Look at this, Yaotl! Look!" Emetaly pulled away from her brother's embrace and held up a strand of her hair. "Gray hairs! _Gray! _At _thirty! _This child is going to be my undoing!"

I do little to try and hold back a snicker, and Emetaly looks like she wants to glare at me before remembering who she thinks I am and simply makes a funny expression like she smells something rotten and is very pleased by it. It makes me want to laugh harder.

"Why did she run off?" Tulio asks. His voice is slightly strained, and his face is devoid of humor. It does wonders at sobering me.

"_I don't know!_" Emetaly throws her hands in the air. "Gods know I cannot predict that child. Even after Ah P—" She suddenly cuts herself off and sends a wary glance in Tulio's direction. "After…I warned her of the dangers she still refuses to listen. I've no idea what she's up to and I just…_oh!_" She pushes Yaotl out of the way and rushes down the street. The three of us watch her as she bustles out of sight, wiping at her face in a futile attempt to get rid of the tears. Yaotl sighs heavily.

"Forgive her, my lords. I'm sure you can understand her turmoil." He glances over his shoulder and sees that Emetaly hasn't gotten far, so he learns in close and lowers his voice. "Listen," he says intently, "Iztaxoco-Kisa did not want me to tell you this, but seeing as though she is not here, I will do it anyways. Tomorrow evening before the suns sets, we'll be holding a funeral ceremony for Ah Kinchil-Puch. I feel as though you should attend, if you so wish." Then he straightens up and continues on in a normal voice, "Excuse me, my lords," before setting a brisk pace to catch up with his weeping sister.

I say nothing, simply scratch the back of my head and divert my gaze. As far as I know, this is still a touchy subject. Suddenly Tulio snickers.

"They're all a lot more relaxed around me, aren't they?"

"I guess it's easier now that you're the Savior of El Dorado rather than, I dunno the Angel of Death."

Tulio stops laughing, and I freeze with an awkward smile on my face. After a couple moments Tulio shakes his head and chuckles dryly.

"I guess so. Come on, let's go find something to do."

* * *

We continue like that for a while. El Dorado has many fun elements and hidden beauties that neither of us have ever seen anything like. Spain can be exciting, but only when we make it that way. For the most part, it's dull and gray and the people are easily irritated and prone to violence. These people are kind and open-hearted, and now that they are no longer afraid of him, they're making Tulio smile. That's more than enough to make me instantly fall in love with this place.

I don't want to go back to Spain but I don't have a choice. Tulio has more of a chance of regaining his memories there than he ever will here, and he is always going to be my number one priority.

Judging by the sun, we've only been out for about an hour or so. Right now I can feel my stomach beginning to growl in protest at not having eaten since the night before, but Tulio is having so much fun I almost don't want to mention it. It's strange how fascinated he is by everything. There are times I have to drag him away out of fear he'll do something dumb like try to show off his power or say something ungodly. Though I cannot keep him away from the birds.

I see them before he does. Beside a tall hedge stands an old man and woman surrounded by a flock of rainbow chickens. They're pecking at the ground where seeds have been dropped by the elderly couple. It's cute, but I quickly stand in Tulio's line of vision. He may not remember, but he has quite the talent with pissing off just about every type of creature that has ever crawled the Earth. And topping that list with a mighty chirp are birds of all sorts. He and many of his possessions have been pooped on relentlessly and he has harbored many cuts from angry beaks. The feeling is heavily mutual. He has never trusted their suspicious, beady eyes or the way they fly above us all like they're _better than us_.

It's…actually quite funny most of the time.

"Hey, Tulio check this out." I grab his hand and haul him towards the couple. As he has done with every single new person we meet, he clenches his fingers around my palm and cuts off the circulation in my hand. But, just as he has done every time, he relaxes the moment they both send us a large smile.

Neither person speaks as they hold out a bowl filled with bird seed, and with a wicked grin I hand it to Tulio. However, he's not as wary as I had expected. Rather, he just seems slightly nervous, keeping the dish close to his chest and staring the birds down, almost as though he's scared they'll be terrified of him too. Instead, they flock to his feet squawking loudly. After a moment, he grins stupidly and spreads the feed over their faces. The birds go nuts, pecking and squabbling over each small grain. Tulio laughs brightly, his smile stretching across his face farther than I've ever seen it.

"They're so cute," he coos. _Coos? _Tulio doesn't _coo_. He hands the bowl back to the old man and scoops up one of the blue chickens, nestling it close to his chest and stroking its head gently. He looks up at me, stars shining in his wide eyes.

I hate how cute he looks right now. I hate that I _find _him cute.

It's when I pause to wonder what would happen if I just jumped into the lake and never returned when the most bizarre thing happened. There's a flash of gray from the bushes and a stone flies through the air, whacking the side of Tulio's head like a cannon against the hull of a ship. Tulio lets out a high-pitched yelp and tosses the chicken to the ground where it lands with a dull thud. He's raising a hand to his temple when the bird lets loose a screech like something from a Hellish realm and charges Tulio, wings raised aggressively in the air.

"What—!" He barely finishes the word before the bird tackles his midsection and jams its beak into his stomach. The old man gasps loudly, chasing after the bird and trying to wrestle it away. Tulio trips over his heels and tumbles to the ground, landing on top of another bird and causing it to let out a bloody caterwaul. He desperately tries to crawl away and fend off two belligerent (though honestly harmless) chickens.

Ah, yes, this is more like what I imagined.

"Get off!" Tulio cries, batting both hands at the chickens as they all begin to swarm him, every bird in the area responding to the battle cries of their fellow aviary kin. "Foul fowls! _Augh!_"

The old woman has a hand covering her mouth and her companion has backed off, scratching the back of his head as though this is simply a challenging puzzle rather than an assault on one of his gods.

"Miguel!" Tulio sends me a pathetic glance which begs for my help, though it quickly withers away into a spiteful glare when he realizes that I'm on the ground as well, wild cackles emitting from my body like I've been possessed by a witch. "_Ow_—hey, don't just — _augh _— do something!"

He seems to have forgotten the fact that he could just use his "almighty gift" to send them all flying, and is instead panicking as their tiny beaks jab at his skin. Eventually I take mercy on the poor guy and walk forward ("You could move — _ouch _— faster, y'know!) and take the bowl of bird seeds back from the man. He doesn't put up any sort of fight, actually seeming so stunned he doesn't appear to notice me.

"Incoming!" It's the only warning Tulio receives before I upturn the bowl over his body and he's showered in a hail of seeds. For a brief moment, the chickens seem distracted from their prisoner, which is long enough for me to run forward and grab the stunned Tulio's hand yelling, "Run!" as I go.

For several steps, Tulio staggers behind as I drag him to his feet, but eventually he catches his balance and keeps up. He casts a terrified look over his shoulder to see the barrage of birds searching the area for their missing prey.

I do a quick scan of what's ahead and yank tightly on Tulio's arm to drag him behind a high brick wall. Both our backs slam into the barrier and for a moment the air is filled with the sound of air rushing in and out of our lungs before I let out a soft chuckle. Tulio glances at me out of the corner of his eye before he grins, and before I know it we're both howling with laughter. It's the most outrageous thing to happen to us this far — and one of us thinks we're gods.

This all feels familiar. If you took the city made of gold and rainbow chickens and replaced them with a Spanish town and angry guards, then really this is no different than Spain. I mean, Tulio just got beat up more than I did. There's that constant.

Tulio's laughs are dying down now, and he leans his head against the brick behind him and he slowly catches his breath. Finally, he turns to me and grins like a fox who found a way into the hen coop.

"Great work, partner."

He doesn't notice the way the air rushes out of my lungs like I've fallen from too high a height. He just casts a sly peek behind the brick wall and says, "I think we lost them." He turns back to me and smiles. I can't return the gesture. My chest feels constricted and all breathing functions are currently out of order. How can he smile like he hadn't just said that?

"Man, that was weird," Tulio continues. He lifts a hand to his temple and rubs at a steadily swelling red mark, his nose curling as he pulled his hand away. At least it's not bleeding. I think he's had about enough of head injuries. "Where did it come from?"

"I don't know." My voice is suddenly a lot quieter than it had been moments ago. "It just came out of nowhere. The bushes maybe."

All the excitement that had been pumping through my body earlier seems to have completely dissipated with a simple, off-handed word from Tulio. It's replaced with a deep-set weariness that makes me want to lay down and never get up. Maybe it's time to get back to the temple. Chel will be missing us, and we need to fill her in on what happened.

Just as I'm about to make this suggestion, an estranged chicken bursts from behind the wall with a loud shriek. Maybe it's just the lighting, but I swear its eyes flash red. Tulio squeals and leaps ten feet in the air, taking off in a random direction. The chicken doesn't chase him, just flaps its wings in a threatening manner and sends him unholy screeches.

I don't start chasing him right away since I'm too busy doubling over, but the moment I look up to see where he's gone, I find him diving into a small building. The humor dissipates from my body like mist in the summer heat and I quickly straighten up to follow him.

For God's sake, it's not even attacking him anymore.

The house is made of a smooth, white stone with a straw roof. Gems of various colors are adorned around the window and door frame. There's no door, so before I even walk through the entrance I can tell there are a lot of people inside.

As quietly as possible I poke my head into the house and see an older man standing in front of a small group of children. He's facing away from them and creating an elaborate painting on the wall. It's already mostly red and purple, but now he's drawing with blue from a bowl cradled in his arm. No one seems to notice that I'm here yet.

I scan the room quickly. For a moment I can't find Tulio and almost pull my head out to see if he had somehow gotten out without me seeing, but then my eyes catch him in the corner where the light from the windows doesn't reach. He's hiding in the shadows and is staring at the man in front with a concentrated gaze. It's that moment when I notice the man is speaking.

"…and he told us that the gods would arrive because they were displeased. They wanted sacrifice and human blood, and here we have had peace for a thousand years. And the High Priest declared that the eclipse was a sign that that time was ending."

He's almost finished with the drawing on the wall, and has switched from blue paint to green. His voice is low, smooth, and confident, as though he has already told this story a thousand times.

"You all know this tale. But you have yet to hear that the High Priest has yet been proven wrong, for this morning the gods declared that they had not arrived for bloodshed, and scorned the High Priest for — _ngyah!_" The storyteller had turned around to face the children and spotted me standing near the door. All the tiny heads swiveled around to see what had caused this reaction, and there's a small chorus of gasps.

"Oh, uh, hello," I say after a beat of hesitation. I clear my throat and deepen my voice. "Lovely day outside, isn't it?" The storyteller smiles so wide that all of his teeth show.

"It is indeed!" he cries. "A blessed day, my Lord." The children chime in with their agreements; there's a small chorus of, "Yes!" "Thank you!" "You're the best!"

"We were meant to hurt you." Tulio's voice drifts over from the corner and the storyteller jumps, eyes flickering over to the shadows as though he is seeing Tulio for the first time. Maybe he is, with the way Tulio is lurking. "Is that what you're saying?"

The storyteller's smile fumbles for a moment, but then he forces it back even stronger than before. "I do not pretend to know the workings of our gods. But it appears to me that Tzekel-Kan was simply wrong. He is only mortal, after all. He cannot claim to understand the truth any more than I." The storyteller's smile turns into a tiny grin. "Though I will admit, you had many of us worried for a while."

Tulio tenses but says nothing. His hands ball into fists and wring themselves tightly. I see him look behind the storyteller at the mural painted on the wall and his jaw clenches. It's a depiction of the two of us wearing the formal clothes we'd received, even though Tulio is the only one still actually wearing them. After a moment Tulio says nothing and departs the building, fleeing like the shadow of a bird's wing.

The man is left standing there with his jaw dropped slightly. I chuckle and scratch the back of my head.

"Er — excuse us. Carry on. Pretend we were never here. Nice painting by the way. Like, professional." There's a drawn out pause as I inch for the door. "K, bye," I say before sprinting outside.

He hasn't gone far. Not ten feet away from the house he sits on a bench with his back hunched as he perches over his knees, hands clasped and eyes staring beyond the ground. Slowly, as though I'm afraid he'll scamper off like a deer, I approach and sit next to him. He says nothing and does not move.

"You…doing okay?" I venture, honestly having no clue what's gotten to him this time.

Tulio opens his mouth and then closes it, lips pushing into a small pout as he tries to figure out the right words. I don a sad smile at the familiar sight. Almost automatically, my hand raises to touch Tulio's neck, rubbing small circles where it meets his shoulder. He lets out a small sigh and turns his face ever so slightly towards me, though his eyes are still staring at the ground.

"I'm so confused," he says. "Were we…was Tzekel-Kan right when he said we were sent to bring back sacrifices? Have I just gone against that?" He finally lifts his gaze so that he's looking straight at me, and I wish he wouldn't because I can't bear the torment brewing in his once clear eyes.

"Uh…" At my response Tulio's frown deepens.

"And let's say that Tzekel-Kan was wrong and we're actually here to save these people. I've failed by killing someone. Someone died and — and _god _these people are so kind and so scared that the family invited me to his _funeral_."

"All right that's it!" I jump to my feet and stand above Tulio, whose head has snapped up and is staring at me with a bewildered look on his face. "You're feeling mopey because you saved people's lives. You also _make no sense_. Who cares if we went against somebody above us? At least people didn't get hurt. I mean, sure, you killed someone—" he winces "—but that wasn't on purpose. That was a complete accident, and I'm sure you were _trying _to do the right thing. You can't blame yourself as long as you were trying to help. You are a good person, Tulio. So it doesn't matter _why _you're here, it matters _what _you do next."

And that's where I lose my steam and mentally wince, realizing I'd once again implied that we're gods. But I think that maybe there's a time to worry about the truth, and a time to worry about how he's feeling. The truth would only make him more depressed, so the right thing to do would be to keep lying until he's happier. Then I can tell him.

…That makes sense, doesn't it?

I don't have time to continue thinking about it because suddenly he's standing in front of me and his eyes are shiny but not sad, and he just stares at me. I shift, getting ready to say something when he shakes his head, looking almost frustrated.

"You're right," he says. "You're always right."

"I'm _what_?" But he doesn't answer because suddenly his arms are around me and he buries his head into the crook of my neck, tightening his grip like he's scared I might try and escape. For a moment I just stand there before I tentatively wrap my arms around his back. I feel him let out a breath and I wonder if he was holding it that whole time.

It's another few seconds before I notice that he still smells like Tulio. It's almost covered by the scent of sunshine and foreign spices, but underneath it there's an amalgam of pine and the ground after it's rained and something that's just purely _him._ It's still there. _He's _still there. Despite everything he hasn't disappeared completely. I know he hasn't, because if I close my eyes and hold him tight, I can pretend for those few moments that nothing has changed.

And that's why when he pulls away, his blue eyes clearer than they've been for days, I don't hesitate — don't even think — before closing the small distance between us and kissing him.

He makes a small noise of surprise, but he doesn't freeze up and pull away like last time. Instead, he kisses back with the determination and curiosity of someone who is kissing for the first time. His lips are warm, and when he raises a hand and presses it against the back of my neck, it almost feels like home.

Almost.

Eventually he pulls back but stays close, a small yet confident smirk on his face.

"And you say I make no sense."

"I stand by my words," I reply instantly. Tulio grins, and he looks like he's about to say something else when another voice speaks up.

"Am I interrupting something?" Chel's words come from behind me, and I whirl around with a small, strangled yelp. It's as though someone dumped an ocean of ice water over my head and I take several steps away from Tulio, fully realizing what I had taken advantage of.

He is going to be _so _pissed when he remembers.

But for now he just looks amused, not even trying to hold back a smirk at my reaction to Chel's arrival. She's standing several yards away staring at us with her eyebrows cocked and arms crossed. I can see her shoulders shaking and her annoyed expression is falling apart, but at least _she's_ trying to hide her laughter. Altivo is standing next to her staring down at me over the top of his nose, and it's the first time I can remember him looking displeased with me.

"Chel!" My voice is far higher than I intended it to be, and it's the last straw for Tulio who bursts out laughing. The smile finally finishes crossing Chel's face and her arms drop to her sides.

"Glad to see you're both looking alive, boys." Chel's tone is oozing with sarcasm. "It was hard to tell, since the ceremony was supposed to end several hours ago and you never showed up."

Tulio's laughs are reigning themselves in now, and they turn into confused chuckles. "Why…heh…why would we not be alive?"

There's a beat of silence that lasts too long. Chel's face is frozen in its smile, but her expression is anything but pleased. Her eyes flicker to me, then back to Tulio and her grin cracks. Tulio straightens up a little more and I can see the moment that he senses something is wrong because his eyes narrow slightly and his face tilts dangerously. Altivo nickers nervously and takes a step back as though to say, _I'm out._ Tulio repeats his question pointedly, and Chel snaps out of whatever trance she'd been in.

"I didn't think Tzekel-Kan would like the fact that you didn't want to kill anyone, so I just assumed that he'd have tried to do something to you." Chel seems suddenly much more at ease now that she's found her excuse. "I know you're both gods, but his magic is pretty strong. I figured if you were fine you'd have come back by now." The excuse is sensible and she doesn't stutter once, looking Tulio straight in the eye. He relents almost immediately, shrugging and muttering something about how it wouldn't have been a problem if she had went with them in the first place. If Chel hears, she doesn't say anything.

"Anyway," she barrels on, "I've been hearing some pretty interesting stories on my way here." She chews on her bottom lip for a moment before saying, "Did you really stop Tzekel-Kan from performing sacrifices? Like, ever again?"

"I don't know about the future," Tulio says, "but I guarantee that as long as we are here he won't hurt anyone." Chel's brow furrows at his words, and somehow I feel as though she's not entirely convinced.

I know the feeling.


End file.
